The Last Student
by MyMelancholyBaby
Summary: "Train me" she said. John hesitated. She had a reckless streak and a complete disregard for her own life. Yes, She could be a hunter. "This is the last time I'm going to let you cry," he said, "There's no more feeling sorry for yourself anymore." She hastily wiped away her tears. "Yes sir." John/ OFC with Jo, Ellen, Sam, Dean, Gabriel, Rufus and a few more OC's. M for awesomeness.
1. Chapter 1: When Hunter Met Winchesters

**Ok, so, a few things.**

**This is my first fan fic. Ever. I recently decided to publish the whole thing. It's my baby, which means it's been taking up valuable space in my brain forever. **

**So, since it is my first fan fic and my baby, I've taken my sweet time getting into the story. Basically it is a story about my original character hunting. I like to think of her as the anti hero of Supernatural. The story follows the same basic timeline. So at the same time that Sam and Dean are out having Winchester fun, my OC is doing practically the same shit, just some place else. The same goes for some of the favorite minor characters of the series. There is a lot more interaction between my OC and minor characters than with my OC and Sam and Dean. At least at first.**

**So, it starts at season one then continues until past the current season. I mention some pretty obvious season markers, so it shouldn't be too hard to keep up with where the story is.**

**So, beginnings suck. I'm really sorry about these first two chapters, you guys. I just... needed to introduce my character and lay the foundations of my story and blah blah blah. Please stick it out till chapter 5 before you decide it sucks and close down the window. **

**I do not own Supernatural or any of their copyrighted characters. If I did, we would have to move that shit to HBO. Basic cable would not allow me to broadcast the things I would do to those men.**

* * *

Dean Winchester lay on the ratty bedspread of a cheap motel bed, flipping through TV channels and trying to not look at the questionable stain near the pillows.

"I'm hungry." He said, looking over his shoulder at Sam, buried in a pile of books with his laptop open. Sam tried not to roll his eyes. This cycle of conversation had already happened four times tonight.

"Dad's getting food after he interviews the witness. If you're really that bored, just go get a soda or something."

Dean grumbled something about quarters and turned petulantly back to the TV.

"Look, Dean. " Snaps Sam, "I'm sorry that you're bored. And I'm sorry that after you hooked up with that first girl, Dad took over. You should have known better. "

"Yeah, yeah, sex with artsy college chicks _after_ we kill the demon." Sighed Dean, yet he was in a remarkably good mood since Sam reminded him of his latest conquest. "She had her tongue pierced." He said, raising his eyebrows.

"Gross"

They both looked up at the sound of the key in the door. Dean sat up and turned off the TV.

John Winchester walked in the room, his arms laden with binders and a bag of fast food. A six-pack of beer was dangling from his fingers. Dean leapt off the bed and took the beer and the food. John dropped the binders next to Sam.

"These are 10 other deaths and one questionable disappearance in this town within the last week. " John took off his coat and dropped himself into the chair next to Sam. Dean opened a bottle of beer and handed it to his father. He sat in the third chair at the table, twisting open a beer for himself. Sam gave his oldest brother an exacerbated look, then got up and helped himself to a beer.

"I have no idea what we could be up against," John said, rubbing his eyes. "Each of the victims has a different cause of death, a different location. No sulfur, no symbols, they all have all of their limbs. The only thing they have in common is that they're female, single, in their fifties and have credit card debt."

"What are you saying? We have MasterCard demon on our hands?" Dean said, half joking. "You sure this is a job for us? Not a serial killer or anything. Not just…" Dean paused and glanced out the window. "Tucson, Arizona being Tucson, Arizona?"

"Yeah." Said John," I've got a gut feeling about this one. Plus, all these victims are alike. Whatever it is has a thing for middle aged single females. Even serial killers stick to the same MO."

"But we are thinking demon?"

"Most likely."

"There must be something." Dean said. "Maybe they all went to the same high school or something. "

"Yeah, thanks, Dean, we checked for that… wait" Sam flipped through the binder, pausing as he compared two pictures.

John and Dean stood up to look over his shoulder as Sam flipped between the two. The first showed a woman in her bathrobe, laceration marks around her neck like she had been strangled with a belt. The second showed a woman around the same age, though a little chubbier and with brown hair instead of red.

"Besides the age, I don't see that they're connected." Dean continued, squinting to see what his brother saw that he didn't.

"Holy shit." John said, ignoring Dean's comment.

"What? " Dean asked, looking closer.

Sam pointed to the background of the first photo. On the woman's dresser sat a shiny red leather purse with a big gold label on the side. Sam then flipped to the second photo, where, in the corner of the picture was very distinct red strap.

* * *

"Damn idiot. " Bobby Singer said over the telephone. "I spend six hours reading and one long distance phone call to Singapore and _now _you give me this information?"

"We just saw it." John said over the phone, "Sorry, Bobby, but all our victims had this purse either in their crime scene or on their person when they died. But the thing is, we can't find the purse for sale at any store in town, or online. We think that wherever the victims got this purse has something to do with why they died."

"No shit, Sherlock."

Bobby grumbled over the phone. John heard him rustling through books.

"So, " said Bobby, "You thinking this might be just some good old fashioned shopping? I've heard of demons trying on hosts before. Like god damn shoes at Neiman Marcus They usually favor a similar type. People of a certain gender, age, ethnicity."

"Have you ever heard of a demon killing in such varied ways?"

"It's rare, but it happens."

"When have you ever been inside a Neiman Marcus?"

"Bingo." Said Bobby,ignoring John's jibe "I see your demon and raise you a monster. Gorgon, yes, that gorgon, the ancient Greek monsters. Get their rocks off by possessing shallow, aging women and then wrecks havoc on the men surrounding them. Your monster fits the profile. No known method of killing it. Salt and holy water, won't do a lick of good on something this big."

"Shit"

"All I can recommend is a silver knife. Maybe if you hurt the host you can dislodge it."

* * *

"So, what you're saying is that this demon... "said Sam from the back seat.

"Monster" corrected John

"Monster. This monster lures women into its web with designer purses, then tries their bodies on for size? Then kills them when they decide it doesn't fit?" asked Sam.

"Yes."

"I didn't even know gorgons were real. Is it like Medusa? Do they really turn men to stone?"

"Wait, back up. Stone?" Interjected Dean, sounding more incredulous than apprehensive. Dean looked back at Sam as if to confirm. When Sam shrugged, Dean turned questioningly to his father.

John willed himself not to lose his patience. John loved Sam, but it had never occurred to Dean to question him when his brother wasn't around. Things ran much more smoothly when Sam was at school and it was just Dean and him. Now Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly at his father.

"No." said John shortly. "That would only be in her non-vessel form. She needs a vessel because it's too dangerous for her to be in her true form. I think that's the only way we can kill her. The second she starts to leave her 'meat suit' as the demons like to call it is the second you close your eyes and run. She turns men to stone alright, but only in her true form."

"Well, isn't the plan to get her out of her vessel in order to kill her? How to we kill her if we can't look at her?" Sam asked.

"Let me worry about that."

* * *

John was driving the two boys to a strip mall. All the deaths happened in a radius of this mall, and all women had shopped at the grocery store in it. If they we're going to confront the bitch, it would be here.

"Are we sure that we can will kill it?" asked Sam for the umpteenth time

"Sam. Stop" said John.

"I don't like going in there blind," said Sam, frustrated that no one else could the the futility of this job.

"Sam, drop it." admonished Dean.

Sam sat back in silence.

The three parked and walked towards the strip mall. Besides the grocery store, and a single designer purse store every storefront in the mall was empty.

"Ugh, yellow crocodile skin. Tacky" said Sam as the three approached the window stocked with glossy patent leather purses.

"Analyzing purses. Gay" Retorted Dean.

"Both of you, shut up. "John snapped. He continued to himself in a low murmur, "now, if this was a real store, I'd worry about security alarms. As it is…" John hesitated, and then signaled to the two boys to walk around the back of the store. The three crept around the alley.

"Well, that can't be good…" Dean said, looking at the broken lock on the door.

The three exchanged significant looks, then pulled their shotguns and entered the store rank and file. First John, then Dean then Sam. John held a shotgun, saving the knife for when he was positive he would need it.

The store itself was hardly more than a warehouse. It was completely barren besides the window coverings. If there had been any doubts about this location as the supernatural hub of the gorgon, they were dispelled.

The three stood in the center of the room with their backs to each other, their eyes trying to adjust to the light. The monster wasn't here. But the three couldn't shake the feeling that someone was. Dean heard it first, the slight scuff of a shoe against the concrete floor. He fired into the darkness.

The three heard a muffled yelp and then the sound of weight hitting the floor. John gave Dean a scolding look then silently approached whatever Dean had shot.

"Who is there? " Asked John, "Show yourself"

There was silence again.

John reached in the darkness to where the sound had come from and felt air. He moved his hand further and touched the concrete wall. As he pulled back his fingers, he saw they were coated in blood. John turned back towards his sons to and opened his mouth to say something when he felt a sharp pain right below his ear. Giving a startled yell, he leapt up and swung a punch towards the shadows.

He was surprised to make contact with a warm body. He grabbed into the shadow and managed to grab a fistful of hair. His attacker was shorter than he had originally thought. This was greeted with a well-placed kick to his shins. John doubled over but kept his grip strongly on his handful of hair. He pulled it towards him, knocking his opponent off balance. He gripped the other arm around the his small attackers shoulders and stomach, pulling them into a hold. Sam and Dean ran forward.

"Human, not demon" John grunted, winded from the ferocious attempts of his opponent to free themselves. He had to adjust his grip, his hand grazing the attackers chest.

"Woman." He said, mildly surprised.

The woman thrust up her elbow, smacking him in the chin. He dropped her and she stumbled as she made her escape. Dean tackled her to the floor, pinning her arms behind her back. She kicked wildly, and then suddenly stopped.

Dean knew that a hunter never surrendered. Whoever it was had a damn good reason for being still.

John and Sam froze too. The four waited in silence for a couple of seconds before the reason became clear. An unexplainable gust of wind roused them.

A middle-aged latina woman appeared before them. She smiled cruelly as she spotted them easily in the dark. She cocked her head as if analyzing the scene, then opened her jaw impossibly wide revealing a dozen rows of razor sharp teeth.

'Shit' thought John, 'It was escaping it's body while it has the chance.'

"Cover your eyes!" he yelled, but it was needless, as Sam and Dean had already pulled their elbows to their faces. John reached into his pocket for the knife.

The gorgon's jaw continued to open, until it was large enough for a small person to climb into or out of. The girl under Dean had wriggled free and began running towards the opening mouth.

She pulled out a silver knife from her waistband and dove in. The three men looked at each other, shocked. The monster closed her mouth and made a "mmmmmm" sound of satisfaction.

John took a deep breath and then raised his knife to the monster, hoping that it worked. She cocked her head and then threw it back, as if to laugh at his attempt.

She froze, then started gagging as if she was choking. Her jaw began to open wide again, and out tumbled the mystery hunter, covered in phlem. With a quick movement, she sliced one off one of the thousands of teeth from the gorgon's mouth.

The gorgon looked at her in surprise, then cackled deliriously. She opened her mouth wide as she laughed at the hunter.

Another tooth was rapidly growing in to replace it. The hunter stumbled into the company of the Winchesters, pushing them out of the way as she ran back towards the wall.

"Didn't work" Yelled Dean, "Just pissed her off."

The hunter ignored him. From the shadows, she produced a small bowl. Dropping the tooth in the bowl, she looked at the Winchesters and lit a match from her pocket.

"Stand back" the hunter warned, dropping the match. The entire room lit up suddenly, as a dozen candles sprang to life in the shape of a pentagram.

The hunter began to chant in an ancient language. Hebrew, John recognized. Whatever the hunter was chanting seemed to work.

The monster stopped mid laugh and looked scared for the first time. Suddenly, she started spinning. Then she spun so quickly that she lost her shape and became a spinning ball of color. The hunter kicked a black rock into place and stood back. The gorgon gave one last scream that was too shrill to be human or even earthly. Finally, the monster disappeared and the rock glowed hot.

The hunter crawled forward and kicked the rock into a wooden box, which she quickly locked and stowed in a bag.

The candles were still lit, and the Winchesters could see the hunter clearly. She was propped against the wall, clutching her side and her backpack, defiantly looking at the three men to say or do something.

She was young. No more than 25. And she was surprisingly curvy. Her right arm bore a small tattoo on her wrist; a Star of David. Her hair was matted and bloody, initially held back by a rubber band; it now hung in sweaty clumps around her face.

Her hand holding her side was drenched in blood. As she lay there, the color began to disappear from her lips.

Sam spoke first.

"Do you… do you need help?"

She glared at him defiantly.

"No, thanks. I think you've helped plenty. " She gestured to her bleeding side.

Sam crouched down to her level. He glanced at her bag, where she had stowed the box.

Bad idea. She instantly clutched the bag closer to herself and tried to stand up. She slid back down to the floor, leaving a trail of blood along the wall.

"Sorry, sorry" Sam said quickly, "Sorry, calm down, I'm not going to take it from you. We're not going to hurt you."

"More. You aren't going to hurt me more. See, I've already been shot." She glared over Sam's shoulder at Dean. "If you want to help me, go away."

"Look, we can't lea-"

"Go. Away." She growled threateningly.

"Leave her." Said Dean.

Sam looked over his shoulder, surprised at Dean's apathy.

"I wouldn't trust us either," he said.

The hunter nodded at Dean. That was all the thanks he needed. Dean stood and walked away, John followed him. Sam gave one last look at the bleeding girl and stood. As the three got in the car, John looked down at his shirt. The hunter's blood had spilled onto him as he held her during their fight. The original color of the shirt was unrecognizable as the red blood faded into a rusty brown.

John took a deep breath as if he knew he was about to do something he was going to regret. He was the reason she got hurt. He couldn't leave her.

He was turning into Sam, god forbid.

"She doesn't want our help." Dean called to his father's back as John marched back to the warehouse with a grim determination. Sam trotted after him with a bag of medical supplies.

John, wordlessly approached her and grabbed the wrist that was clutching her bleeding side. He roughly lifted her shirt, revealing blood and gunshot wound. It was not as bad as he had thought. The bullet had grazed her. While it was definitely not as bad as it could have been, the girl had lost a significant amount of blood and the wound would need stitches.

The girl pulled the knife she had used to cut the gorgon and held it to John's neck.

"I will waste you, old man." She snarled. Despite herself, the hand holding the blade shook weakly. "Go. The Fuck. Away."

Sam placed a needle of tranquilizer into John's open hand.

"This is going to help with the pain." Said John, looking the hunter in the eye. "I can't leave you here to die. Let us patch you up. Then we will leave and never tell anyone we met you."

The hunter looked into his eyes, as if deciding if she should trust him. Reluctantly, she nodded her head.

John expertly inserted the needle and injected her.

She blinked a couple of times then nodded off.

..


	2. Chapter 2: Three Men and a Hostage

"Ok, this is a horrible idea. What if someone sees us carrying the unconscious woman?" Dean mumbled.

"Dude, a prostitute just went into labor in that alley way," said Sam. "I'm pretty sure this is the _least_ sketchy thing happening in this motel tonight."

Sam grabbed the unconscious hunter by her upper arms and Dean grabbed her legs. Miraculously they made it into the motel room without any trouble. As they got in, Sam and Dean placed her on Dean's bed.

"Tie her wrists" John said coldly.

Sam looked at him, stupefied.

"Do it. She isn't very strong, but she's determined. She could probably do some damage if she could catch us unaware."

"Dad," Sam started "She's going to freak out when she wakes up and finds herself in our room. What do you think will happen if she wakes up and finds herself _tied up_ in a shady motel with us?"

"Sam, she didn't kill it."

"What?"

"The gorgon. She trapped it. She didn't kill it. Why not? Is she going to sell it? Is she going to use it?" John growled. "Look, I've been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you. I've never heard of her. That might mean she isn't a hunter."

"So, what? We keep her until she either bleeds out or wakes up long enough to answer our questions? Like a hostage?"

"We'll stitch her up. Even if she is a greedy, stupid trader, she's a human. " John looked at the girl for a minute, calculating, "We need water and more supplies. " John went through his bag and pulled out a rope. He tossed the rope to Dean. "Tie her wrists. Then use what we have to clean the wound. I'll be back with more supplies. "

Sam let out an exasperated noise when his father walked out the door. Dean picked up the rope and walked towards the unconscious hunter.

"You knew he was going to do this," said Sam, finally understanding his brother's initial apathy.

"Damn it Sam, don't be naive. " Dean growled, he grabbed a pair of clean socks from his bag and lined her wrists so that the rope wouldn't rub her skin. "We've hunted, we know what its like. The second you start to trust someone new could be the second you get killed. Honestly, I'd have rather left her there, but ...orders are orders."

Dean finished tying her wrists and Sam sat next to him with her. Dean gently lifted her shirt. The fabric was beginning to stick to the wound.

* * *

"I think she's waking up."

The girl sat up suddenly. She realized her wrists were tied. As she was about to scream, John placed his hand over her mouth.

"We could have killed you by now if that had been our goal." He said bluntly, " I'm going to let you go in a second. I want you to look and see that we gave you stitches. Then, we're going to ask you some questions, you're going to answer them. If you're telling the truth, we'll let you go. "

The girl stopped struggling and looked at John. She nodded.

"I understand" she said as soon as John released her.

"What's your name?"

"What's yours?"

John gave a sigh at her defiance. Now that she was feeling better, she seemed to have adopted a nastier disposition.

"I will torture you." He said, completely seriously.

"Fine, my name is Vanessa Von Hart"

"Bullshit." Interjected Dean "that's a porn star's name. Don't ask me how I know."

"Ew," she said.

"Name, " said John, standing up and walking over to the table behind her. He began rustling through it. A torture tactic he had learned. She couldn't see him, but could hear him moving.

"Good trick. The anticipation is killing me. " She said coldly, "An oldie but a goodie, but then you would understand that."

John pulled out a small scalpel blade. He pressed the edge into her shoulder just hard enough to draw a drip of blood and to show her he meant business.

"Paige."

"Paige?"

"Do you need me to write it down?"

"Paige what?"

"Garcia"

"Ok. Paige. Where did you learn? Who taught you about monsters and demons and hunting?"

"And I learned from a man named Lang. You can go call your little network of hunters and ask them. They'll tell you to let me go and get out of my way."

"Do I get a last name?"

"None needed. People fucking know him."

John said nothing as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and began to dial. When he left the room with his phone to his ear, Sam leaned in towards Paige, sympathetically.

"Are you thirsty?" He asked, wiping the blood from John's cut off her shoulder. Her lip quivered quietly as she whispered something into Sam's ear, her eyes wide with fear.

Paige turned to Sam and said something in a low voice. Sam looked at Dean and then whispered something back to her. Sam nodded and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I'm getting us some soda. Do you want some, or are you just going to sit there and glare?"

"I'm going to guard the hostage."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, and gave one last reassuring look to Paige. Paige and Dean watched Sam leave. As the door shut their eyes snapped back onto each others'.

"I don't trust you" said Dean abruptly.

"Good" replied Paige, all pretense of fear leaving her voice.

"You know, that whole manipulation thing works a hell of a lot better when you don't let someone see you play the hard- snarky- badass and then the scared little girl."

"You're easy enough to read, though. " Paige said as she adjusted her weight, refusing to acknowledge the sharp pain in her shoulders. "Must be hard to play second fiddle to an old man, even if he is your dad. Tell me, how emasculating is it to tuck your tail between your legs and do whatever he says?"

"Oh, I see. You're going to play the 'pride card.' Very original. "

"Well, wearing an expensive leather jacket and some big bad biker boots that scream overcompensation does put up a few flags."

"Yeah, and this whole, I'm a 'smart mouth badass' character is unique. You know why hunters are so smart mouthed? Its cause we're all scared shitless of each other."

"That's some damn good psychology 101. How long have you had that written in your diary, waiting to tell someone and look _so _profound?"

"I will gag you."

* * *

Sam was coming back to the room with two sodas when he saw John getting off the phone.

"Well?" asked Sam, "Did you find out who she is?"

"No. But I did get a lead on Lang."

"Good guy?"

"Sam, none of us are 'good guys' but he was a hunter. Crazy mother fucker, but effective enough."

"So, what? We let her go?"

"Almost."

Sam and John entered the room; Dean and Paige were glaring silently at each other. Dean looked up at his father.

"So, we found out who Lang is. " Said john to Paige, "But, See, we still don't know who you are. Or why you insist on capturing instead of killing. Those are some big questions. We need some good answers."

"If you know that Lang taught me, then you know that I'm not to be toyed with. " Paige said heatedly.

"I don't really know who Lang is. And the people who do know him, don't know him well."

"That's because he was the greatest hunter who ever lived. Hunters shouldn't have friends. We have mentors. Then we have no one."

"That's some contradictory thought process," said Dean, "and what do you mean 'lived.' He is now dead?" Dean looked to his father for confirmation.

"See, Lang was a little quirky, even for a hunter." John said. "As he got a little older, he went to live in the mountains of Montana. Collected a bunch of young men and women from around the country, and he trained them."

John gestured to Paige and paused before he continued.

"A few months ago, the local police reported a huge fire on some mansion in the middle of the mountains. Police figured it was a mass murder-suicide of some cult."

"It was _not _a cult. And it was no murder-suicide." Paige interjected. "It was an attack. And it had to have been planned. There was more than one of them."

"Them?"

"Demons. Somehow they broke our seals, our protective charms. And when they did, they killed everyone."

"Sounds like an inside job, " said Dean.

"Yes." She said darkly, "I'm afraid I think so too."

"Why did you catch it?" John asked suddenly, "the gorgon? Why didn't you just kill it? Lang killed. Indiscriminately. Savagely. You caught it. Why?"

"Oh. Yes. I can see how that would look bad" said Paige, looking uncomfortable. "See, I don't…. I don't know how to kill a gorgon."

"Lang didn't teach you?"

Paige didn't respond.

"You weren't fully trained when he died." John guessed.

"I _know _some things." Paige said defensively, "_You_ didn't kill the gorgon either. At least I stopped the killings. "

"You created a time bomb." Snapped John, "Someday, someone will find that stone, and use it to kill more. You didn't help, you made things worse."

"Dad, stop it." It was Dean, not Sam, who interrupted him. John stopped, looking mildly surprised. "_No one _knows how to kill a gorgon. We had a theory."

John sighed. Then nodded at Sam, who was sitting closest to Paige.

"Let her go."

After Sam released her, Paige stood shakily. She walked over to her bag and sorted through it. She paused and took the box from her bag. She handed it to John.

"Get cleaned up." He said, tucking the box under his arm. "Then go on your way. We won't stop you, and we won't tell a soul that you crossed our path."

Paige nodded and walked into the bathroom. Sam waited until he heard the shower running to start talking.

"Should we really just let her go and hunt? By herself? Without really knowing what she's doing?"

"I don't see that we have much of a choice," said John, "She's tougher than you give her credit for." John turned to his eldest son. "Dean, when she gets out, I want you to give her a gun and some salt pellets. Then give her a couple of silver bullets. We can't stop her, but we can give her a Popsicle's chance in hell of surviving."

"Where are you going?"

"I've got a hunter friend in Phoenix, a couple hours north. She can tell us how to destroy this, or at least hold it secure for a few days." John rattled the box that held the gorgon. "I'm not carrying this nuclear weapon around with me."

"You're taking Sam?" asked Dean, trying not to sound as hurt as he felt.

"My orders are to arm her and send her on her way. I don't trust Sam to follow through." John said, ignoring Sam's affronted reaction. "Sam. Car."

* * *

Dean sat for a moment, and then started getting weapons out to give Paige. He slammed the supplies down a little harder than absolutely necessary, but he was ticked. His father never hunted with them any more. He was here for about a weekend and then he would just disappear again. Sam got to spend a few extra precious hours with him, and the ass probably wouldn't even appreciate it.

Dean caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He was still wearing the bloody shirt from when they brought Paige in. He shrugged it off rustling around for a clean (or at least not bloody) shirt.

"Hmmmm." Said a voice behind him.

"Hey! What are you doing?" asked Dean, pulling the dirty shirt to cover his naked chest.

Paige raised an eyebrow and then looked around the empty motel room.

"Alone?" she asked

"Looks like it. Now, turn around or something. I'm kind of getting dressed here." Dean turned around and grabbed for a clean shirt when he felt fingertips running along his back.

"Strong." Murmured Paige, tracing his spine to the waistband of his jeans.

"Oh, these are dirty too." She said into his back, the warmth of her breath sent goose bumps down Dean's spine and a slight lurch in his lower stomach.

She slid her fingers into the waistband of his pants and slowly drew her hands towards the front of his, pausing over the button. Dean took a second to find his voice.

"What is this, Stockholm's or something?"

"You want me to stop? What does your moral compass ..."Paige's hand slid further down the front of his pants and lightly stroked his semi-erect dick for emphasis, "tell you to do?"

Dean turned around and to kiss her, but as he lowered his mouth to her level she pulled away.

"None of that, now." She purred.

Paige began to walk backwards towards the bed, kicking off her pants as she did. She walked smoothly, despite her fresh wound. The color had returned to her lips and cheeks.

Dean raised his eyebrows at her rapid recovery. His dad was good. Not _that_ good.

"You seem to feel pretty good for someone who recently suffered a gunshot wound." He said.

She slid onto the bed and coyly looked to the empty space next to her. She pouted her lip as Dean remained where he was.

"I'll be gentle" she teased. She reached up and slid a finger under her bra strap, dropping it to the side.

Dean crossed the room in two steps and sat next to her.

Gently straddling him, she ran one hand over his naked chest, the other rubbed his cock through his jeans. Then she started nipping Dean's neck and chest, pausing to lick his nipples.

Dean cupped his hands around her ass and pulled her against his full erection. She pushed him onto his back and then continued her oral tour of his chest. Dean felt as though he was going to come in his pants.

"Condom. Duffel bag. Floor," He managed.

Paige slid off him and Dean momentarily regretted saying anything. Within seconds she was back on him, grinding her hips against his.

"Look what I found," she said, holding up a pair of handcuffs.

"What did you have in mind?"

"I was your hostage," she said, "maybe you can be mine?"

Dean eagerly held his wrists to the iron head of the bed and Paige clicked them shut. As she leant over him to test their security, Dean tried to kiss her again. Paige quickly pulled away.

"I said, 'none of that,'" she repeated, more firmly this time.

"You're the boss" Dean said, smiling.

Paige's hands found the front of Dean's pants again. She unbuttoned them and pulled out Dean's erection. She slid her hand over its shaft and then opened the condom and slid it over the head.

Dean let out a gasp of pleasure as he entered her, straining against his confinement. He bucked beneath her, trying to quicken their movement.

Paige grabbed his chin in her hand and forced him to look her in the eyes. Her look said quite plainly, 'Ill run this show.'

Paige leaned back and began to grind to her own rhythm. She then leaned forward and began to run her fingers down his chest. Their breath quickened and Paige let out a final shudder as she finished.

Dean started to move at his own pace, quickly coming close to his own edge when Paige got off him. Dean made a noise of protest as she stood, picking her panties off the floor.

"Hey," Dean rasped, his erection almost painfully hard. "HEY," he said more loudly as she ignored him. Paige walked over to him, now fully dressed again, and slowly wrapped her hand around his member. He relaxed and leaned into her grip. Paige cocked her head and smiled, then she pulled off the condom and went to the bathroom to throw it away.

"Wha-" Dean sputtered, "Bitch!"

Dean was still handcuffed to the bed when Sam and John returned. He had managed to put his business back in his pants, no thanks to Paige.

"Whoa," said Sam, as he entered the room and saw Dean handcuffed to the bed. "Dude, what happened? Did Paige do this?"

"No, dummy, I did. This is what I do in my spare time." Dean said irritably. "Are you waiting for a formal invitation? Unlock me."

"What did you do?" asked John, trying not to laugh.

"I'm fine, Dad, thanks for your concern."

"I think someone learned an important lesson about keeping his hands to himself," Paige said, entering the room behind Sam and John with a plastic bag.

Dean looked as though he wanted to let loose a retort, but he settled for simply snarling at Paige. Clearly, he wasn't dying for people to know the truth either.

"Thanks for the supplies." She said shortly to John and Sam.

John handed her a piece of paper.

"This," he said, "Is all of our phone numbers. This one here is for Bobby Singer. He's a good guy. He's seen every boogieman in the book, so no matter what you're up against, he can help."

Paige folded up the paper and put it into her pocket.

"Good luck," said Sam, giving Paige a hug.

"Don't do anything stupid, " said John, patting her on the shoulder.

"Bitch, " snarled Dean, under his breath.

Paige smiled cruelly at him and walked out the door.

* * *

John drove down the highway alone, leaving his sons to go their own separate way. He felt comfort in the fact that they were hunting together. They were good hunters, even without him. Especially without him. They had each other, and they complemented each other. John was a subscriber to the philosophy of hunting alone. Except when it came to his sons. Funny enough, most of his rules about hunting had exemptions for his sons. He shook the thought from his head, it was his best coping strategy for when he started to miss them.

John sighed and leaned forward to touch the radio.

He had done this most of his life. Statistically speaking, most of the last 20 years were spent behind the wheel of this car, driving. Alone. And he knew that the quiet only bothered him if he let himself think about it.

John slowed as he saw a hitchhiker ahead. It took him about three seconds to guess who was standing there.

He pulled over and opened the passenger door.

Paige climbed into the truck, dropping her bag on the seat between them. She looked forward out the front window and John pulled back onto the road.

"I'm heading to the bus station. Any bus station."

John didn't say anything.

"I know you'll probably tell me that I'm in over my head, and that I should go to college or get a job and a boyfriend or something." Paige adjusted her weight so that she was looking at John, "But I know things, now. And I can't un-know them. I bet you want me to go and get a normal life. Be… normal. But I can't."

John still didn't respond. Paige shifted back to the window.

"Train me." She said.

John hesitated. He had never trained anyone besides Sam and Dean. And even then, he had trained Dean with a bit of reserve. Honestly, he didn't want Dean to get hurt. To this day he only told Dean half-truths; to keep him from the worst of the war. But this tenacious girl, John could train her to fight fully. She wasn't his daughter. He could engrave every ounce of knowledge he possessed onto her in this impressionable stage and form a fighter.

But then, John wondered, if he should. She was young. Young enough to get married, have kids and a career. Making her a hunter would mean sending her to an early death. It was just a fact.

The relationship between a hunter and their pupil was sacred in their culture. John had never truly considered his sons as pupils. He taught them on a need to know basis. He didn't intend to train them as hunters. He mainly wanted them to know enough to not get their assess handed to them by a demon. Of course, as they got older, the line blurred between needing to protect his sons and needing to condition new soldiers for the war. And of course, as he got older, he realized that he probably couldn't take the bastard out by himself.

It was an unwritten rule that every hunter trains at least one other hunter if they lived long enough. At least one to replace them when they, inevitably, met an early death. Paige was driven by revenge. John recognized it; it was the same thing that fueled him.

John turned to look at her. She was young, but that was good, he calculated. She would be easier to train. She wasn't small. She could be powerful with proper technique. Paige returned his look with an air of defiance.

She was strong when he interrogated her. John remembered with a mixture of awe and horror as she dived into the Gorgon's mouth. She had a streak of reckless abandon and a complete disregard for her own life.

Yes, she could be a hunter.

"Do you have a family to go home to?" he asked sharply, "anyone who would miss you or go looking for you?"

Paige looked forward to hide her watering eyes. She shook her head 'no.'

"It's a shame," said John, looking back to the empty road. "But it's an advantage. You're going to need to toughen up. This is the last time I'm going to let you cry. There is no feeling sorry for yourself anymore."

Paige hastily wiped her eyes and turned back to John.

"Yes, sir." She replied.

With that, they both returned their attention to the road ahead of them, riding in silence until the morning.


	3. Chapter 3: Some Like it Rough

John climbed back into the car with a bag of food from a 24-hour grocery chain by the side of the interstate. As quietly as he could, he closed the car door and began to drive again. Paige was curled up on the passenger's side, almost lost under John's coat. They were heading to Bobby's.

Bobby's house was like a sanctuary to John. Besides being a safe place where he could leave Sam and Dean when they were little, Bobby's place was the standard go-to for many hunters.

Get shot and need stitches? Go to Bobby's. Broke your leg? Bobby's. Find a vagabond girl who wants to be a hunter but only has the vaguest idea of what that means? He could take her to Bobby's.

Bobby Singer said that John could stay at his house as long as he needed, but Bobby was out on a weeklong job. John had to admit that he didn't like missing out on a hunt, but the fact was that Paige wasn't ready to go out on a job just yet.

The drive from Arizona to Bobby's took a couple of days. As they drove, John began to assess exactly what she knew in order to assess what she needed to learn. She knew most demons and how to hunt a ghost. John was a little uncomfortable with how well she seemed to know witchcraft. Like most hunters, John really hated witches.

The girl was book smart. Yet reading about the monsters and fighting them were different matters.

And becoming emotionally strong enough to be an effective soldier was the most important part of hunting, and consequently the worst part to teach.

The sun was peeking up over the horizon as John pulled into Bobby's driveway. As he turned onto the dirt road, Paige awoke with a start.

John didn't know whether it was comforting or troubling that Paige always woke up so vigilantly. On the one hand, he did the same. John woke up every morning as if he was going to fight a demon at the foot of the bed. But then, John had spent the last 20 years seeing and fighting things that most people only know in nightmares. The idea that this young woman did the same gave John pause.

Not that he asked, of course. Paige rarely talked about her past. The several times she mentioned anything were usually in reference to a brilliant and superior way that Lang taught her to fight a demon she encountered in his notes. Paige spoke almost exclusively in praise of Lang, which created a strange well of jealousy in John.

Despite himself, he was growing used to her constant, if quiet, presence.

He was right in assuming that the Paige he met in his interrogation was an act. This Paige that drove with him was quiet and somber. She was funny, though not always on purpose. And she possessed a vulnerability that John found endearing, quite possibly because it was so rare in female hunters.

But, he kept reminding himself; he would have to kill any trace of vulnerability if he was going to make her into a fighter.

John stopped in front of Bobby's house. Wordlessly, Paige grabbed the bag of food and her own backpack and headed towards the front door, as if pulling up to strangers' homes and walking in was the most natural thing in the world.

John opened the door and pointed Paige towards the kitchen.

John brought his own bags upstairs, pausing for a moment to consider where to put his things. The second floor of Bobby's house had only one bedroom, then a small sitting area outside of it. John thought about taking the couch, offering Paige the privacy and comfort of the bedroom.

Then John reminded himself about why he was there. Paige could no longer be a little girl to John. Nor could she be a woman. A hunter, like a soldier was devoid of sex.

Everything he was going to put her through this week would have to make her hard. It might kill any remaining tenderness, but it would keep the rest of her alive.

John put his own bags on Bobby's bed and headed downstairs.

Paige had started preparing breakfast, and the smell of coffee wafted from the pot in the corner. Paige looked up and over her shoulder and smiled before returning to her work.

'Damn,' thought John, 'She will never smile at me again after this week of training.'

John sat at the table and slid Bobby's note towards him.

"How do you kill a-" John started, reading off Bobby's note.

"A silver blade dipped in the blood of a virgin." Paige finished, matter-of-factly.

"Or?"

Paige stopped and looked at him. She seemed perplexed that she would need a second answer.

"You can also kill it by placing the bones of its host into a fire"

"Oh." Said Paige, with a shrug." Or you can just do it the first way," She giggled quietly to herself, as she turned back to her cooking. "the easier way, if you will."

John slammed his fist on the table.

"You need to have a back-up plan. _Always_. Isn't that the first goddamned thing I taught you?"

Paige jumped at his raised voice, disoriented by his rapid mood swing.

"Yes. Yes, you're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," said John coldly, "Just don't be stupid again."

Paige didn't reply. She just placed John's breakfast in front of him with a cup of coffee. John tried not to be touched by the fact that she remembered how he took it. She perched herself across from him, sipping her own mug.

"Eat," he ordered.

"I'm not hungry." She said timidly, she was still on eggshells from his outburst.

"Today, you're going to start physical training. You need energy. I'm not going to be OK with you if you pass out before I say we're done." John spoke slowly and deliberately, chewing each of his words as they left his mouth.

Paige obediently got up and poured herself a bowl of cereal, dousing it in Soymilk. When she was done, Paige washed her bowl and then went upstairs.

John had lost his appetite. He pushed his own breakfast away from him.

* * *

"Twenty more." Snarled John

Paige was dripping in sweat on the ground. She had just completed six hours of vigorous exercise, and was kneeling, shaking, after at least a hundred push-ups. Despite his earlier rule, that forbade crying, tears streamed down her face as she gasped for breath.

"I. Fucking. Said. I. Want. Twenty. More."

Paige nodded and climbed back into her push-up position, her elbows shaking violently beneath her. She did one push-up, then fell to her knees and started heaving. John watched her throw-up the last of the breakfast he had forced her to eat.

"Did I smoke a bowl and tell you to stop? MOVE"

Paige gave a quiet, muffled noise, that sounded that it could be "_no."_

John grabbed Paige's arm and dragged her. She scrambled helplessly to get her feet under her. John didn't stop until he got into the shade of a tree by a hose. He threw her to the ground towards the hose.

"Drink" he ordered, "Then twenty more push-ups, then 100 burpees for taking this little break."

Paige's eyes began to water as she crawled towards the hose. She was shaking so badly that she struggled to turn the faucet on. When she finally turned on the water she clutched at her side where just a week ago, Dean had shot her.

"Up." Growled John.

Paige let out a whimper and then rolled into a push-up position.

"What was that?" asked John, "Was that you deciding you don't want to be a hunter? That all that stuff that Lang taught you and that those people died for doesn't matter anymore? Are you tired?"

Paige looked up at John with a fire in her eyes. 'She is going to survive this.' thought John with a bubble of hope that he refused to show. He continued to glower above her.

Paige pushed herself up and did the push-ups, but after a couple of burpees, she was starting to flounder again. She started towards the tree and hose.

"Oh, no you don't." said John, grabbing her arm.

Paige ignored him and kept walking towards the shade.

"I said '_no'_" snarled John, and with a swift pull he knocked Paige off balance. She fell to her knees and tried half-heartedly to jerk her arm from John's vice grip.

John yanked her back to her feet, and then slapped her across the face. Paige stumbled, her eyes wide with shock and hurt.

"I didn't say we were done." Growled John, slapping her again.

Paige started to pull away, in earnest this time. John landed one more slap across her face and then pushed her to the ground. She was crying again. John kicked her onto her back then spit on her. She laid there, immobile, tears silently running down her face.

"We start again tomorrow," John said, then he kicked dirt onto her coiled body and walked back to the house.

The sun began to set and John looked out the window to where Paige stayed, laying under the tree, where he left her. It killed him, to leave her like that. She had been so trusting when she climbed into his car. And that morsel of trust he had earned.

She took her abuse so fully. That was what hurt the most.

Every slap and abuse he threw at her, she took. Then John remembered her tied to the bedpost, answering his questions. Twice in their short relationship, Paige had been beaten and bound. Either the girl was an idiot or she really didn't have any other place to go. As it was, Paige simply did as he told her, and to her credit, she never complained.

After this, she would be stronger, John reminded himself. He had been trained the exact same way, after all. As a marine, he had to be broken down so that he could be built up stronger. As a hunter, part of his training included being beaten over and over again until pain and abuse slid off his shoulders without hurting him. John had faith in his methods, even if beating her down made him feel sick. The shock in her eyes as he slapped her kept appearing in the forefront of his mind.

The most troubling thing of all, though, was the leap in his stomach as he remembered her tied to the bed. He thought of her accepting every perverse thought that crossed his mind. He thought of her complete trust in everything he did.

And he remembered the fire that burned in her eyes when she thought about what she was fighting for. 'She will survive this,' thought John.

He only wondered if he would be able to quash the wicked images that popped into his head as he closed his eyes to sleep.

Paige tied to the bedpost, with fire in her eyes.

* * *

John didn't hear Paige come in that night, nor did he see her as he sat alone to his breakfast.

But at some point, Paige must have come in. When John came out that morning, Paige was wearing fresh clothes and had washed her face. John intentionally ignored the gentle black and blue shadows forming across her jaw. He felt nauseous at the thought of having to hit her again in the same place.

"I hope you're well rested, " said John, coldly, "We're doing the same again today, only longer, harder and faster."

Paige didn't look him in the eye, but at least she had stopped crying.

Just as the day before, John yelled, he cursed, he abused, and she took it. When they had done everything John could think of, he pointed to the tree with the hose.

"Rest," he said, "Drink. I'll be back"

When he returned, Paige was standing where he left her, winded and sweaty. He placed padded mitts on his hands and held them up.

"Hit me," he said.

Paige obediently punched the left mitt, then the right. Her combo was perfect in form, but slow and weak.

"For fuck's sake, I said 'hit me.'" Yelled John. Paige jumped at his tone, her eyes watering slightly. She punched the mitts again, harder this time.

"You hit like a girl," said John.

Paige smiled weakly.

"You think I'm kidding?" snarled John, "Girls hit like they don't really mean it. Like maybe some big strong man will ride up and save them. How's that working out for you?"

Paige starting hitting harder and faster, her eyes blurry with tears.

"I thought you were a warrior. That's why I said I'd train you." John continued, sneering," but you're just another little girl who talks big game but needs someone else to save her. Tell me, are you a warrior?"

A silent tear ran down Paige's cheek.

"I asked you a damn question, " yelled John, turning his hand so that he hit her with the non-padded side of the mitt. His aim was precise, slapping the young bruise across her face that he had given her the day before.

She recoiled a step, but this time, she punched the mitt harder.

John yelled again, "Are you a fucking warrior?"

"Yes!" Paige yelled back to him, aiming a sloppy, but fast and hard punch at the other mitt.

"Prove it, " challenged John, pushing her lightly.

Paige's eyes flashed. She recoiled her arm and punched in an immaculate arc. Her fist passed both mitts and landed squarely on John's nose. The crunch confirmed that she had dislocated his nose, splattering her with blood.

John stumbled, blinded by pain, but also pride. Paige was becoming a fighter.

John shook the mitt off of his hands, and then expertly relocated his nose. He turned to Paige, who was standing squarely, staring up at him.

There was no more fear in her eyes.

John reached back and slapped her hard across the face, again landing along the traces of bruises. Paige didn't recoil. She didn't step down. She straightened up, and looked John in the eye, ready for another one.

Her face was drenched in his blood. She looked ferocious.

"Again, tomorrow." Said John.

And he walked back into the house, leaving her alone outside.

* * *

John slept better that night, despite the images of Paige that kept appearing, unbidden, into his most shameful dreams; ferociously staring up at him and covered in his blood.

And tied to his bed.

Around midnight, awoken by a particularly vivid version of these dreams, John stepped out of his bedroom and headed downstairs for a glass of water.

He was mildly surprised to hear noise from the sitting area outside his room. Paige sat against the wall, her hair damp from a shower and skin clean. John noticed the slight pucker of her nipples underneath a familiar white tee shirt that she undoubtedly stole from him at some point.

With his dream image of Paige still fresh in his mind, John felt a carnal urge to go to her. She was so obedient and submissive. He knew that if he went to her, and pushed her onto her back, he could have her tonight.

The sudden image of her writhing under him, the feeling of her soft, damp skin beneath his calloused fingertips almost made him hard right then. Instead, John walked down the stairs and got his water. When he returned upstairs, Paige was laying on the old couch, with her back to him.

When he closed the bedroom door to her, he placed the glass of water on the table and lay in the dark. He fantasized about bending Paige over the couch. He imagined entering her roughly and quickly, accepting his dark pleasure.

It was wrong on so many levels.

The girl was younger than both of his own children, and she came to him for help avenging the deaths of her friends. She trusted that everything that he put her through was for her own good.

There was no version of this scenario where a sexual relationship would be good for her education as a hunter. Sex would complicate their relationship. He couldn't be positive that he could separate lust from love, and then love from his own survival instinct when the time came. And she was incredibly young, too young to be able to know the difference between the thousands of feelings that inherently came with sex.

When he thought about fucking her, he felt dirty and ashamed.

But also undeniably aroused.

He quietly pleasured himself, thinking of blood soaked Paige, tied to his bed, taking everything he had to give her. He almost said her name out loud as he surrendered to his own climax.


	4. Chapter 4: Love in the Time of Demons

**This is a long chapter. At the end, we get really heavy duty into Paige's back story. Bear with me, please! **

**Also, read and review!**

**It makes my day whenever people do!**

* * *

Paige looked up at John as he entered the kitchen the next morning. She looked unsure, as if wondering whether she was allowed to be there.

The left side of her face was swollen. Her eye was almost completely swollen shut. She had a painful looking cut on her lip, and her hand was black and blue from where she had punched him the day before.

John sat down at the table, looking at her. She looked back at him quietly. Then let out an odd sort of giggle. It was eerie, coming from her distorted face.

John raised his eyebrows at her, his own expression solemn. Paige quickly looked down at her coffee to try and regain her composure. Failing, she looked back up at John with an amused smile.

"You look like Ernie."

"What?" asked John.

"Like the Muppet."

John raised his eyebrows again, forcing Paige into another bout of giggles. Unable to speak, she gestured to her own nose. John ran his fingers across his face, then, feeling his own nose was swollen, he laughed out loud.

John was relieved to see her relaxed in front of him, the old Paige had survived the emotional conditioning after all. And, a shameful part of him was happy to be near her. Even if they were laughing about the physical abuse they had doled out on each other.

After a few minutes, John took a deep breath and stood. Paige stood warily as well. John shook his head.

"You go into Bobby's study, grab the first book you see and read."

Paige nodded, obviously relieved that they were taking a day off.

"Where…" she began but faltered.

John, despite himself, looked at her expectantly. Silently he willed her to be brave. He willed her to assert herself, despite the days of conditioning.

"Where are you going?" Asked Paige with more confidence.

"Why do you care?" Challenged John.

Paige, emboldened, squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye.

"Because I'm tied to you, and you're tied to me. The shit you do affects me. Tell me where you're going."

"To the store. I can't take you because you're face is so fucked up." John had to force himself not to beam with pride at her. He turned and began to walk out the door when he said over his shoulder, "We have enough food. I expect you to have breakfast made for me when I get back."

"Make it yourself" Paige yelled at him.

With his back turned to her, John could finally smile with pride at the tough hunter he had help create.

* * *

When John returned he found Paige in Bobby's study, reading a book like he had asked. She smiled at him when he walked into the room and he couldn't help but smile back. Her face looked like a puffy blue marshmallow and he looked like he had a misshapen golf ball on his face. They were a distorted pair.

He tossed one of the bags at her.

When Paige opened it, she found cream for her bruises, a pack of tee shirts and a box of tampons. She suppressed a smile. Then she moved that aside and found a bag of candy and a gossip magazine.

Paige heard John moving around in the kitchen. Cautiously she stood up and peeked in. John was standing over the stove. The smell of bacon and eggs wafted through the air. Paige walked up behind John and gave him a hug from behind.

"Sorry," she said when he gave a start, "It was just…. Nice. For you to…."

"Yeah," he replied awkwardly.

"Yeah," she finished, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," John mumbled, rubbing a hand over his stubble.

Paige started upstairs to change into one of her new shirts when it suddenly occurred to her that John might have not bought tampons for a very long time, if ever. She felt a swell of affection for him as she thought of him in the aisle, surrounded with pink boxes of feminine products.

When she returned downstairs, Paige entered the kitchen with John. He had slid some eggs, bacon and toast onto a plate for her. And set it opposite him. He had already started eating, and was looking at the newspaper with a red pen in his hand. Paige slid across from him and looked at the food on her plate. Cautiously, she took a piece of toast from the plate, shook the egg pieces off, then nibbled on a corner.

"What's wrong?" asked John, who had watched her entire process.

"Oh, it's nothing. " she said evasively, continuing on the bread.

John rolled his eyes at her and put the paper down next to him.

"Look, I'm impressed at your vigilance, but I didn't poison it."

"Oh, no," said Paige quickly.

"Paige."

"I don't eat meat." She muttered

John was quiet for a second. Paige glanced at him to gage his reaction. Suddenly, John laughed. For a full minute. He roared with laughter. Paige looked at him sheepishly.

"It's sad," she said, "I feel bad for the pig,"

John wiped a tear of laughter away from his eye.

"A hunter who feels sorry for the pig," he chuckled. "I didn't even think to ask…" his voice broke as he began a new wave of laughter.

"We protect innocent things." She said, "The pig is innocent. I'll kill the hell out of a demon. I don't want to eat the harmless pig."

John looked at her and tried his best to straighten his expression as he saw her serious reaction.

"I'm not laughing at you. No, it makes sense. Sorta." He said, a little more gently, "you're just different from the sorts of people, hunters, I've known for the past 20 years. "

"Different as in bad?"

John paused for a moment.

"Maybe not." He said, "but this lifestyle. It makes people change. Makes them into survivalists, I guess. Makes them not really give a shit about the pig."

"I don't see how they're mutually exclusive."

John chuckled again.

"No, I guess you're right."

Without thinking, he placed his hand over hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Paige looked at him and smiled. She squeezed his hand back.

* * *

Paige spent the rest of the day Bobby's study. The thing about Bobby's house was that it wasn't small. It was pretty massive, especially if you considered the basement, which Paige didn't, since she was pretty sure that she wasn't supposed to know about it.

There were several spare bedrooms, but they were all full to the brim with books. One room was full of handwritten journals like John's. Another was full of books in Latin. Yet another was full of books that were neither in Latin, English or any other language that Paige could recognize.

Paige was sitting in the room with the journals, picking some off the shelves, skimming rather than reading. She could see an insane sort of organization in them. They weren't organized by year, or alphabet, but by subject. Each hunter usually had a big demon or two that they spent their entire life hunting. This was how the journals were organized.

Getting a headache from the messy handwriting and the cryptic codes that each hunter utilized, Paige walked into the living room and paused when she heard the TV on. She stood in the doorway watching John flip through channels.

Paige felt a little bubble of some sort of emotion as she watched him. John was in rare form today. He seemed younger, less worried. It suddenly occurred to her that today was the first day that she had heard John laugh. In fact, it was the first time she had seen John smile. Smile in a real way, a way that was warm and travelled up to his eyes. No, that can't have been right. They had been together for a week. Surely he smiled at least once in that time?

Paige wondered how many people saw John Winchester smile at with that much... was it tenderness?

But then whenever she started to think like that she forced herself to stop. It made her think about John being tender with other women. Women like Ellen, whom, to be fair, John had never admitted to hooking up with. But he mentioned her a few too many times, and Paige saw a picture of her in one of Bobby's many rooms. She was pretty, in an old sort of way, but then Paige reminded herself that she was about the same age as John. She was probably tough and smart, like a good hunter should be. Like a woman that John would love would be.

Whenever Paige thought of John with another woman, she got a nauseous feeling in her stomach. Like jealousy, if she was honest with herself, which she rarely was. She liked to think of her feelings for him as daughterly. But there were moments, usually when John didn't know she was watching him or when she was laying down to sleep that she felt something far from daughterly affection.

She would think of him pushing her down, forcing her be stronger and then feel a flush of heat across her stomach.

John sensed her watching him.

"Busted," he admitted. "I haven't watched TV in years, probably. Tell me, why do all the TV shows look like reality TV? Even when they're not?"

Paige perched herself onto the couch next to him. Trying to read his mood, Paige watched him closely. Of course, that hadn't done her a lot of good in the past, the man was harder to read than most of those chicken scratch journals Bobby hoarded. John handed Paige the remote and stood to go to the kitchen.

"You decide. I'm trusting you. Nothing stupid. And nothing with a Snooki. I've heard about it, but I don't ever want to now what it is."

Paige was flipping through the stations and had landed on an infomercial for a set of knives. John returned and reached over the sofa to hand her a beer. Then, as if reconsidering, he pulled it back out of her hand.

"How old are you, really?"

"Old enough for that." said Paige, snatching the beer from his hand.

John sat next to her, and faced her.

"What aren't you old enough for?"

"Ummm, I can't run for senate. Or rent a car." Paige said, turning to face him as well. "How old are you?"

John chuckled and took a long drink of his beer.

"I can rent a car, and run for office." He flicked at the label, not looking at her. John suddenly seemed to not know what to do with his hands. He settled for taking another long drink of his beer. "You can always trust Bobby to have some good stuff on hand."

"I thought hunters only drink whiskey." Paige said, remembering a liquor cabinet tucked away in Bobby's kitchen.

"Don't tell anyone, but I hate whiskey." John said in a low voice, leaning in slightly as if confessing a secret.

"I won't tell a soul, " whispered Paige, blushing slightly at their intimacy.

John had only moved a fraction of an inch at most, but suddenly the entire atmosphere changed.

Suddenly, John was close to Paige. Too close for her to think straight. Too close for her to think about anything besides John's breathing. His hand was on the cushion between them, and all Paige could think about was how much she wanted him to put that hand on her thigh. She could see the green irises of his eyes through the soft gaps in his lashes.

He didn't pull away immediately afterwards. He hung there, shamefully, hopefully, and long past the moment when he could laugh it off. Her breath caught in her throat as his finger tips invaded the precious few inches that were between them.

He touched her lightly, with the back of his hands. It was a question. Paige's eyes were focused on his hand; slowly making it's way up to her shoulder. His fingers paused as he came to the straps of her tank top and bra.

John's own eyes were focused on Paige's face, watching her reaction. Paige sat there, letting him touch her. Her breath quickened as John's palm grazed her breast. He fingered the straps of her top, and then slowly slid them to the side, exposing her shoulder and collarbone. Paige's eyes finally left John's hand.

They shyly traveled up his chest and across his arm, landing on his lips. John took this as the invitation he needed. He leaned in so slowly, he felt her breath mix with his own. John brought his head in to touch her lips…

"I had sex with Dean" said Paige suddenly.

John paused for a moment, and then the words registered with him. He sat up straight and then held Paige to arms distance. He looked at her for a long minute.

"I'm sorry, I just, I figured you would want to know sooner rather than… after. I mean, I still want to, but if it's too…" The words gushed out of Paige quickly, and she hated herself every moment.

John was quiet for a moment, but Paige watched in terror as his face went from surprise and confusion to disgust and anger.

"When?" John grunted, looking away from her.

"At the motel," Paige's voice broke, "When you and Sam left"

Paige was crying now, out of humiliation and self-loathing. She hated that she was the reason the John looked at her that way.

"Why didn't you say anything," he growled, forbidding himself from looking at her. "We've been together twenty four hours a day for a goddamn week and you didn't tell me that you fucked my son."

"I didn't think it would ever come up, it meant nothing. " Paige wept. "I don't want to hurt you, but I didn't want to lie."

John stood up quickly, and he looked at Paige. Disgust was etched on every inch of his face. He pushed her back against the couch, hard this time.

"You can't hurt me." He said, his voice growing louder and crueler with every word, "You disgust me. You're a goddamned whore."

Paige stayed on the couch and cried as John stomped up the stairs to Bobby's room.

* * *

No, he told himself, he was not going to cry. He was angry with Paige for something she couldn't control. She didn't make him want her. She didn't flirt or insinuate any advances. She came to him for help, and he twisted their relationship into something unhealthy and sick. The hatred in his gut belonged to him and him alone. He hated Paige for being young, and for needing him. He hated her for letting him feel like she could ever want something that he had to give. Of course she preferred his son. His son had everything more to offer. John had nothing.

After a few minutes, John turned out the light and threw himself onto the bed. Not because he was tired, but because he needed something to do.

To his own disgust, his mind kept bringing up images of Paige, tied to his bed. But this time, instead of him crawling onto the bed and physically claiming her as his own, it was Dean.

And even to him, John had to admit that it made a lot more sense.

* * *

John didn't sleep that night. At what he assumed was an appropriate time; he got up and went downstairs. Paige wasn't on the couch she was usually on, nor was she in the living room where John had left her that night.

The living room was clean; Paige had tidied up after their fight. For a half of a second, John was afraid that Paige had left and gone off on her own. John instantly thought of her going out alone, in the middle of the night and getting hurt. That would be entirely his fault.

John began to get nervous as he looked around the house and saw no evidence of her. He half jogged outside when he saw Bobby's van parked in the driveway. The hood was up, and he heard voices coming from the front.

"Bobby!" called John, walking up to meet him. Bobby looked around the hood of the van. John felt a mixture of relief and disgust as he saw Paige peek her head out at him too, she was holding a flashlight for Bobby. The cream for her bruises had helped the marks a lot, John had to admit, but her face still looked puffy and sore.

"You look like hell." Bobby said as John approached. Bobby turned back to Paige, "I'm glad to see you got him good. Trust me, we've all wanted to take a swing at him before."

Paige giggled. John was taken aback by Bobby's joviality with Paige. Bobby never liked anybody, let alone strangers.

"I would be much obliged if you started some coffee for us." Said Bobby suddenly, turning to Paige.

Paige took the hint and handed her flashlight to John as she headed to the house. Once Bobby heard the door shut behind her, he grabbed the flashlight out of John's hands and tapped him on his swollen, bruised nose. Indescribable pain shot through John and his eyes began to water.

"Goddamned idiot!" Bobby hissed at him, " How old is she? All of fourteen? And you had better tell me that some monster did that to her face or so help me, John."

"Jesus, Bobby," Started John, "She came to me and asked to be trained to be a hunter. I'm training her the same way I was trained."

"You were trained as a fucking adult man, not some kid. Not some poor _girl._ " Bobby growled, "and you're ruining her life. She could still be something normal. Don't you stand there and tell me that you're not thinking with your cock on this one."

"Bobby," John started, "I can't believ-"

"I think you sometimes mistake my protectiveness of your boys as me liking you. I don't like anyone. But I've known that girl for about eleven minutes and I like her a hell of a lot more than I ever liked you. I'll like her a million times more if she makes me bacon for breakfast."

"She doesn't eat meat," said John, wincing as he delicately touched his nose.

"Huh, "said Bobby thoughtfully, then he turned to John, "Hunting takes everything that is good about people and destroys it. Now, you were already a lost cause when you crossed my path, and I never really forgave you for putting your sons to follow in your footsteps. I'm not going to let you take this one too."

"Ask her, Bobby, " said John, "Talk to her. She has her mind set on hunting. And she can be a damn good one too. She's smart. And she's tough, for the most part."

"She can't be that smart if she let you use her face as a punching bag and stuck around for more. " Bobby grunted. He then threw his wrench down and marched to the house. John reluctantly followed, feeling the truth of Bobby's words like weights on his conscience.

* * *

To his relief and terror, Bobby designated himself as Paige's new mentor. They spent an entire day shooting, and then another making potions and protective charms. John felt jealous every time Bobby said something to make Paige smile. He felt hurt every time Bobby corrected him in front of her. Bobby did know more about a lot of things than John did. Bobby preformed spells and protections that John had only heard of, and he quizzed Paige on all the books in the house. Bobby usually kicked John out of whatever lessons he was having with Paige, but from what John could tell, Paige was fast becoming Bobby's favorite student.

One evening, John opened the newspaper and found something promising. A murder that had happened in a room locked from the inside. The third murder in that same hotel in ten years.

John had started packing a bag when Bobby walked out of his bedroom and into the sitting room upstairs. When Bobby came home, John took the sitting room where Paige had slept and Paige began sleeping in one of the several rooms dedicated to housing books.

Bobby watched John pack, not saying a word.

"What?" snapped John, "You don't let me help with her lessons and you kick me out of every room you enter. I found a job, I'm leaving. She's your charge, now. "

"Why are you so angry?" asked Bobby, "Even for you, this is very angst-y."

"Because I was teaching her, and then you swooped in out of nowhere. You made me feel like an ass, then made me look like an idiot."

"Well, I'm sorry, John. Idiot is as idiot does," Bobby rolled his eyes as John shot him a dirty look. "You got me, there is no talking her out of this one. She's like you were when I first met you: stubborn as hell with a death wish. But, well, you aren't the worst hunter I've ever seen. And you're right, she is smart."

John looked surprised at Bobby. This was, quite possibly, the first and only compliment Bobby had given him.

"Don't look at me like that. You're alive, ain't you? 20 years? Lotta good hunters can't say that." Bobby sighed, "Is that all? Cause I'm picking up some other weird stuff between you. Did you sleep with her?"

"No," said John, perhaps a little too quickly. Bobby shot his eyebrows up, "No, Bobby, she hooked up with Dean. I can't touch that."

"Did she love him?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"She's a person, John, not a toilet tissue. Even if someone else used her doesn't mean there isn't something good still there."

"Are you encouraging me to fuck that 22 year old?" John joked.

"Jesus Christ, no, you damn pervert." Bobby said, disgusted, "I'm saying go do whatever you got to do, do this hunt if you must, but come back. She's a good kid. There's more there."

John patted Bobby on the back.

"Thanks Bobby," he said sincerely, "I owe you."

"You already owe me a lot," said Bobby, "You better hope I never come to collect."

* * *

John placed a couple of his bags into the truck, and then cast his mind around for anything he forgot. He climbed up into the cab of the truck, but jumped when he saw Paige standing in front of his car. She had a bag of her own tucked under her arm.

She ran around to the passenger's side and climbed in.

"What are you doing?" asked John, surprised and slightly annoyed.

"You're going on a job. I'm your charge. I'm coming with you."

"Like hell you are, look, you're not ready. "

"I'm tied to you." Paige started, "And you're tied to me. The shit you do affects me. I'm going with you."

"Paige, get the fuck out."

"No."

"Fine, on your own head be it, " snapped John.

John growled like he was serious, but he was also truly excited to see what she could do. But then, a second part of him was glad that she was talking to him again. Since Bobby had returned, she and John hadn't been alone together.

And now she was sitting in the front seat, talking to him like nothing had happened.

They drove in silence most of the night, John briefed Paige on the few details he did know about the haunting. After a while, John pulled over. Paige knew better than to offer to drive, so she curled up on her side of the seat. John leaned over on his own, ready to catch a few hours of rest before heading back onto the road.

After a few seconds, as John was starting to fall asleep, Paige slid out of the cab. John watched her climb into the bed of the truck. Slowly, John slid out of the cab and climbed up so that he was looking at Paige lying on her back.

"Ok, I'll bite, what are you doing?" He asked

Paige scooted to one side, making room for John beside her. John hesitated, but Paige rolled her eyes.

"I'll keep my hands to myself. We don't have to open that can of worms." Said Paige. She patted the bed of the truck again.

John climbed into the bed of the truck, and laid beside her. It was immensely uncomfortable. They were in the middle of nowhere, and the stars were brighter than John had seen them in years. Not that he had really looked for a while.

"I was nineteen." Paige said into the darkness.

John rolled slightly to see her. She continued to look at the sky as she spoke.

"Thats when I had my son."

John sat up on his elbows to look at her, shocked by this revelation.

"I got pregnant." Paige shrugged. She smiled but her eyes were glassy with tears, "I was in college, and I was stupid. It was some other girl's boyfriend. I mean, he claimed he didn't do it. He said I was just a slut and all that stuff. But... I knew, you know? I was a virgin.

"And so, I dropped out. I moved back home. My parents were pretty ok with it... considering.

"After I had him, I just... I couldn't believe how anyone had lived before. How anyone could possibly think that their stupid problems mattered.

"I named him Abraham. I used to be really religious back then."

Paige gave a weak attempt at a smile, but her voice broke as she continued.

"I was working at this grocery store as a cashier. I almost had enough money saved up to move out. I even had an apartment in mind. It had a little room that was already painted blue for Abraham. And there was a playground. I mean, he was only six months old, but someday I wanted to play with him on the slide. My mom used to take me to a playground. The slide was my favorite.

"I came home from work... and it was really late, I had closed. The house was on fire. I didn't know what to do... I mean, there weren't any fire trucks or anything. I ran inside... and... I almost slipped in blood. My dad's blood. I don't know how I kept it together. Honestly. At the time, it went so fast, but now... now I close my eyes and I see it so slowly.

"I was worried because I didn't hear any crying. I mean... it was a baby. Wouldn't he be scared?

"My first thought when I walked into his room was, 'Why is my dad just standing there? Why isn't he running?'

John's body tensed up.

"But my dad was dead, I almost tripped over him. I knew it was him... he was wearing the pajamas my mom got him...

"And my mom... she was on the ceiling. The fire was coming from her. And blood... she was dripping blood.

"The... man, I had thought, I now know he's a demon, looked... surprised to see me. I guess that was my one saving grace, because suddenly a bunch of people ran into the room. Strangers. The... whatever it was had disappeared. I tried to grabbed my son and tried to get outside. It was so smokey. My eyes burned so bad that I didn't think I would ever be able to see again.

"I got stuck, upstairs. The stairs were starting to crumble and I didn't want to jump, not with Abraham. One of the strangers, he grabbed me and, I swear, we flew.

"But by the time we got outside... he was dead. Abraham. He suffocated on the smoke. My..."

Paige couldn't finish. She shook with tears against John's shoulder. John felt his own eyes water as well. A fire that took someone's entire future away from them... he could relate to that.

"I met Lang, he was one of the strangers that fought the demon" Paige said finally, after a minute, "It was the weirdest thing... he said he was sorry that he was late. Like he knew it would happen.

"I didn't have anywhere to go, or anyone to go to. So I went with him. The rest, they say, is history. After they all died, I started hunting by myself. I don't know what killed them. Not really. It was a siege. Dozens of demons against about seven of us. We were trapped and we were outnumbered."

Paige was quiet for a while, drained. When John glanced down at her, he saw her fast asleep, holding his arm, her fingers laced around his. John felt tears running down his own face. He felt a wet spot on his shirt from where Paige was resting her head.

John remembered his wife. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a well worn picture of her. John was forgetting things about her. He forgot how she smelled. He forgot her favorite foods. Unless he was holding the picture in his hand, he forgot exactly what she looked like.

He knew how Paige felt because he had felt the same way too. Blinded by the injustice of having your future stolen from you hands. But, he reminded himself that he had two sons. Yet, to his shame, he sometimes didn't care whether he lived or died. Even if it meant leaving his sons as orphans.

John swallowed his last wave of tears. His sons were alive. And so was he. That was what mattered. And now his sons were hunters, good ones too. And unlike him, they had something to live for. They were young when their mother died. Hell, Sam didn't even remember her. They had never really lost something. They just learned to live without it.

John pulled Paige closer to his chest. Finally, he thought to himself, something he and the promising hunter had in common. But it was the worst possible link anyone could share.


	5. Chapter 5: Gone with the Ghost

John was pacing in front of the bathroom door of their motel room, feeling annoyed at how long Paige was taking. They were marching straight into the police department to check the evidence, and Paige had never done an undercover before. John held her new, fake FBI badge under the light. Bobby always did a damn good job.

The bathroom door opened, and Paige stepped out cautiously.

"Well, look at you in a suit, " she said, "You almost look respectable."

John rolled his eyes and then paused, taking Paige in. John had always been more aware of Paige's body than appropriate, but their last few weeks together had always required some level of imagination. This outfit needed very little. Paige wore a black sweater and a brown pencil skirt, and John had to admit that she filled it out quite well. As Paige slipped into her high heels, she rose to John's eye level. Her hair was piled on top of her head and her face, somehow looked prettier.

"Makeup," John mumbled, "I forgot you would need makeup."

"I didn't." Said Paige, smoothing her hemlines. "Don't worry, you bought me some. Or at least Javier Lopez did"

They slipped out of the motel room and climbed into a generic silver rental car.

"Ok, so you're in training." Explained John for the tenth time, "and you're sitting in on this case. Don't ask questions and don't leave my side. Flash your badge when I do. Don't stare. Don't fidget. You are not even to use the bathroom. Understand?"

Paige nodded, looking a little disappointed by her short leash.

John admitted that she had a raw deal. Sexist as it sounded, women, especially young ones, drew attention. It wasn't really believable that Paige would be a high level FBI official. And the way that her sweater pulled at the seams, John knew that Paige was going to get a lion's share of inconvenient attention.

John couldn't blame her. He just had to teach her to pull it off. His own sons had morphed themselves into impressive liars, of course that had been a little easier. They were men, for one. Dean wasn't a young man anymore and Sam, being so tall, could usually pass as much older than he actually was. Plus, both of his boys had a wealth of experience lying. They had done so as second nature their entire lives. When it came to undercover, usually confidence was all you needed. But John couldn't expect that Paige would be that smooth or quick thinking her first time out.

"What are you thinking?" He asked her.

"I'm thinking that I'm a little nervous. And I'm rethinking the skirt."

"You look great. And you'll do great. But people are going to underestimate you." John said as he pulled away from the curb, "You can use this to your advantage, but also know that it's going to look suspicious if you don't conform to their expectations. If it is a woman you have to fool, you're going to have to be twice as smart and three times as cool. Men are going to expect too little of you, and women are going to be looking for you to slip up."

"So I have to be smart, but dumb enough to not be conspicuous. And I have to conform to people's expectations, except when I don't. " Paige took a steadying breath, "I don't know how you do it."

"Oh, it's easier for me," said John, smiling "I'm an older man. People expect me to act as I generally do. Authoritative, confident. You first have to prove to everyone that you belong there. "

"Why will there be so much more attention on me?" asked Paige.

John looked her up and down in the seat next to him. Paige got the idea and crossed her arms, annoyed at the injustice of it all.

* * *

"Remember: half a step behind me. Don't fidget, and don't ever let them see you sweat." He glanced back at Paige, who, despite her doubts in the car, had a completely straight face. They gave each other curt nods, then walked smoothly up into the building. They were inside for about twenty seconds when John suddenly recognized a woman as he passed her. Always bad news when a hunter gets recognized.

"You!" yelled the woman suddenly from behind them.

"Son of a bitch," muttered John, glancing at his accuser. The woman started running up to the security guards and making a scene.

"Help!" she yelled, "Someone arrest this man! He's a wanted fugitive!"

John was quickly approached by the police and was drawing immense attention from the crowd. He glanced over his shoulder to find Paige and tell her to be cool, but he didn't see her. He caught a glimpse of her blending into the back of the crowd, watching him like everyone else. He meant to give her a look that said, "Call Bobby," but she was so far away that he didn't think she'd see him in the chaos. He hoped she would have enough sense to get the hell out of dodge and find help.

* * *

Paige was freaking out as she saw John being surrounded by police. The crowd was thinning, and Paige really had nowhere to go. She needed to get into the case room, and she needed to avoid being detected. It would do no good for her to get caught with John, for whatever he was accused of.

"Are you one of the new interns?" asked a boy suddenly. He was about the same age as Paige, but thin and sallow. Paige tried to ignore how his eyes kept dropping to her chest. It had been a while since Paige had been around civilian men, and even longer since she had been around horny college kids. She swallowed her disgust and gave him a beaming, sheepish smile.

"Oh my god, thank you! You saved me. It's my fist day and I am totally lost. And then, " Paige gestured to John being cuffed in the middle of the room. He didn't dare look directly at her. "This happened. I was kinda scared. " she lowered her voice and looked at John like he was vermin, "What happened?"

The sallow skinned boy puffed up with pride at her attention. He touched her elbow and started leading her towards the elevator.

"I'm not sure. But don't worry, this is a safe place to work, we look out for each other, you know. "

"That's a relief," said Paige, "I am so sorry, but I didn't catch your name,"

The boy looked eager, but a shadow of suspicion crossed his face, too. 'He isn't dumb, ' thought Paige, 'Hot girls aren't this nice to boys like him. Rein it in'

"It's Torrey. And you're either Caitlin or Samantha. Those are the only two names that haven't shown up yet. "

"Yes, Caitlin. I'm Caitlin."

When they got to the floor, Torrey led her to a small office in the far back. There were no windows or decorations. Just a small desk and a dying fern. Torrey gestured to the seat.

He returned with a file. Paige was suddenly afraid that there was going to be a picture attached to the file, or that the real Caitlin was going to show up. There were so many holes for this lie to fall into. 'Stupid,' thought Paige, 'stupid, stupid stupid. '

"The guy you interviewed with, Jerry, is on vacation, so I've volunteered to help you out. " said Torrey with a smile, he leaned forward and said in a low voice, "I'm an intern too, but I usually get a lot more responsibilities than the others. "

Paige tried to look appropriately impressed. Feeling immensely relieved that one land-mine had been sidestepped.

"So, it's basic stuff. " he said, " Today you're going to be filing some recent casework. Probably by the end of the week you'll be promoted to fact checking casework, and, if you're good, you'll finally be moved up to filling out tedious paperwork."

Paige didn't say anything, only wondered what she had gotten herself into. And wondered how soon she would be able to sneak out and make a call or get John out of whatever trouble he was in.

"Kidding!" Said Torrey, laughing out loud, "Sort of. You'll never get promoted to actually filling out paperwork. Kidding again!"

Torrey laughed to himself for a couple more minutes.

"It's not rocket science, " he said, finally coming down, "It's mostly alphabetizing and stuff. Kind of boring. But it gets more interesting if you stick with it. Too bad so few actually do."

Paige smiled sympathetically and then followed Torrey to the filing room. The room was empty. Glancing around, Torrey leaned in and whispered to Paige.

"Hey, so, do you like scary movies?"

"I love them," said Paige, leaning in as well, maybe laying it on a little too thick, but Torrey did a quick glance at her chest and then looked back at her.

"There is one case, and they say it's a haunted house or something."

Paige's eyes must have lit up, because Torrey gave an excited giggle and led Paige over to a filing cabinet. He opened the file and handed Paige the pictures, police reports, everything. As Paige looked through the file, Torrey waited for her reaction.

"Oh my god, this is so _spooky_" said Paige, giving a girlish giggle for good measure. "Where is this house.?"

"It's a B and B now, " said Torrey, flipping to a photo at the back of the file, showing a wall covered in cuckoo clocks and blood. Each of the victims for the last ten years had been stabbed to death. All the incision marks were identical, as if from the same knife, but no knife had ever been discovered.

"But how would I get there?" asked Paige almost to herself, "I mean, from here."

Torrey suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"You can't go there." He said quickly

"Is it still a crime scene?" she asked

"Well, no… but its dangerous. Promise me you won't go."

"Ok, I promise."

* * *

Paige had spent the entire day looking up the history of the house. It was surprisingly easy, since she was alone in the filing room with a computer database filled with all the case numbers and histories at her fingertips.

Paige found out that the first person who lived in the house caught his daughter having sex with her stepbrother in the 1910s. He went crazy and killed them both with a knife that was never found. All three had been cremated; so Paige figured that if she found and burned the knife, she could kill the ghost, then worry about John.

Torrey had told her that they were bringing federal agents in to investigate a guy who was caught impersonating an agent a few years ago. But, due to bad weather, the agents were delayed.

Paige had used Javier Lopez's credit card to buy herself jeans and a shirt as well as salt, lighter fluid and matches at a local superstore. She didn't dare return to the motel room. just in case the police had tracked John back there.

She walked up to the house. It looked sad, even though it had been inhabited only a few weeks ago. A "for sale" sign creaked as she walked up the overgrown lawn.

"You are so busted" whispered Torrey. He came running across the street from a moped parked under a tree, hidden poorly with discarded boughs. He grabbed Paige's elbow, "You _promised_. It's dangerous in there. I'm not kidding. People have _died. _"

He looked at her backpack.

"What are you going to stay the night? I'm not letting you go in there. You're gonna have to go through me first." He thrust his arms out to his sides, blocking her path.

Paige thought of a move Bobby had taught her, where she could kick Torrey from behind the knees and knock him to the ground. Bobby said to always go for the knees. It was dirty as hell but damn effective. Paige really didn't want to hurt Torrey. He was being sweet. Annoying, but only with the best intentions.

Paige considered him for a second, then put her backpack on the ground, gesturing for Torrey to crouch down with her. She opened the bag and revealed the salt and matches. Torrey wasn't getting it.

"You exercise a ghost," she said, "by salting and burning the bones or object it is attached to. "

"Oh, said Torrey, "I see. You're a crazy person. "

Paige rolled her eyes. Four years ago, she would have thought the same thing.

"You don't have to believe me, you just have to get out of my way."

" No."

"Torrey. Please. Don't make me do something I don't want to. Just let me in."

Torrey looked at her, as if trying to decide whether or not to call her bluff. He lowered his arms.

"I'm going with you. It's non-negotiable."

Paige sighed, then nodded.

They both walked silently into the house. It was for sale, so the entire place looked staged. Paige felt a wave of disappointment. This just meant it would be harder to find the knife. Torrey was white lipped and twitchy.

Paige saw what she was looking for, right next to the fire place was a poker stand. She walked over and grabbed one poker, then handed a second to Torrey.

"If you see the ghost, hit it with this. " she said, "Iron and salt are the only things that can make it go away. It doesn't kill them, but it does make them regroup somewhere else. Now, we're looking for a knife. "

Torrey looked at the poker in his hands, then thought for few moments.

"You really believe this stuff," he said. He looked equally impressed and nervous.

"It is really real." Said Paige simply.

Torrey walked a half step behind Paige as she entered the kitchen. She started kicking floorboards, looking for a loose one. Failing that, she climbed up on the counter and looked into the vent. Nothing. Paige was suddenly aware of the tense silence.

"Torrey?" She called out

With a whoosh, Paige was on her back, winded. She tried to stand again, but the ghost held her down and then began dragging her. Paige reached frantically for the poker, but was pulled too quickly across the floor. Desperately she grabbed for anything around her.

Suddenly she was still, the ghost had disappeared.

Torrey was standing over her with the poker aloft, a look of terror on his face.

"You did it," said Paige cautiously, rising to her feet. "You ok?"

Torrey was pale, and a cold sweat was running down his face, but he nodded quickly. He lowered the poker and took a few deep breaths. He was shaking from the shock and the effort. Torrey stood for a few moments, the regained some composure. He was still pal as he looked at Paige.

"Knife," he managed

Paige nodded, and they both started looking into crevices and vents. After a few minutes, Torrey spoke.

"You're not really an intern." Guessed Torrey.

"No." answered Paige

"Is your name really Caitlin?" he asked sadly, like this was the worst lie to tell.

"No, I'm sorry." Said Paige, looking over at him, she really was. She liked Torrey, she honestly did.

Torrey nodded, then sadly went back to searching.

"It's Paige." She offered.

Torrey nodded, but didn't respond. Paige stood up.

"I'm going to check the basement. " she said cautiously, "I liked the way you handled yourself with that ghost back there. Do you have my back?"

"Yes. Yes, I have your back." Torrey gave a strained smile.

As they stood to go, Torrey suddenly tapped Paige's shoulder.

"What did you say that this knife looked like?" he asked

"I didn't," said Paige, "I'm not really sure."

Torrey pointed at a large, glass display of antique weaponry over the wall. The center piece was an ornate handled blade.

"That could quite possibly be it." Paige said, smiling. Torrey walked forward and pulled the display off of the wall. "

"How to we open it?" wondered Paige

Torrey lifted the display above his head, Paige realized what he was doing about a second before he crashed the glass display on the floor.

"That works, she admitted, pulling the knife from the glass shards.

She threw the knife into the fireplace, then doused it in lighter fluid and salt. She handed the match to Torrey.

"Once this ghost figures out what's going down, shit is about to get crazy. I'm going to stand here and beat back the spirit. You make sure it all burns. "

Torrey licked his pale lips, but nodded, his hand was steady.

Paige turned to the room at large.

"Do it, Torrey. " She said over her shoulder, then turning back to the house she said, "Ok you motherfucker, come out and get me."

Right as Torrey struck the match, Paige felt a pull on her leg as the ghost grabbed her. Torrey gave a startled yell.

"Stay there, Torrey! Get ready to swing at the dick if you need to, but stand your ground"

For the first time, the ghost started to take form. Paige felt a brick in the pit of her stomach as she recognized the form from the pictures.

"Torrey, run! This isn't the husband, it's the wife! Just get the fuck out of here!" Paige took a great swing at the ghost and it released her. She grabbed her bag and a stunned Torrey as she ran out the door, the aggravated ghost beginning to regain her form.

"I thought you said it would work, " cried Torrey,

"It wasn't the ghost I thought. " Panted Paige, she turned to Torrey "You have wheels?"

They hopped on Torrey's mo ped and sped off.

* * *

They were sitting at a 24 hour diner, the police report layed out in front of them. They were virtually alone; the waitress was texting her friends and the fry cook was taking a nap.

Torrey leaned forward and in a scandalized whisper,

"You can't _take _the police files."

"I'll bring them back," said Paige slowly, "Shit, a lot of good this did."

Paige got frustrated and slammed her folder shut. She didn't have her laptop, or the database for her research. She didn't think to look up the fate of the wife. Where she was buried, how she died. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Torrey bit his lip. Dark circles were growing under his eyes as the wee hours of the morning began to creep in. Paige suddenly felt very sad for bringing him into this.

"What do you need?" asked Torrey.

"Thank you, you've done so much for me." Sighed Paige, "I need to know about this woman. When she died, where she was buried, how she died. Her name, maybe."

"All this information is on the databases at the office." Said Torrey simply.

Paige looked at him blankly. Torrey leaned in towards her.

"I told you, sometimes they give me extra responsibilities."

* * *

"Torrey, you're amazing." Said Paige, standing in the filing room.

"I know, right?" said Torrey, smirking from the computer. "They gave me the keys so that I could come in early and process some cases for court. I just never gave them back. "

Paige leaned forward and hugged Torrey around the shoulders.

"You're just doing that because I'm helping you," he said, looking pleased nonetheless, "You wouldn't look at me twice if we met in a bar or something."

His shoulders drooped a little.

"Torrey," started Paige, "You're one of the nicest people I've met in a really long time. "

Torrey rolled his eyes.

"Yes, nice, very cool. Nice guys finish first and win everything, always. That's how the saying goes."

Paige stood, not knowing what to say. Torrey saved her the trouble.

"I found her."

* * *

"David Rush?" said the guard, stepping in front of John's cell.

John stepped forward.

"You're free to go. Sorry about the mix up."

John nodded curtly and then walked down the steps, out of the police department. As he went to his rental car, he saw Paige and a skinny kid leaning on the hood. Paige held out a cup of coffee to him. He took it gratefully and looked expectantly at the kid.

"This," said Paige, "Is Torrey. Computer extraordinaire, and all around badass."

Torrey smiled sheepishly, then held his hand out to John. John shook it, looking back to Paige for further explanation.

"This man, " said Paige, turning to Torrey, "helped me find and burn the remnants of a very violent and psychotic ghostly widow. He also got access to the FBI information database. He switched your mug shot from the criminal file they had started for you. Funny, 'John Winchester' looks an awful lot like a prisoner who died three years ago."

"Much appreciated." Smiled John.

John opened the door to the car and climbed in. He couldn't hear Paige and Torrey talking, but watching them standing together made John feel sick with jealousy. Or perhaps he was just tired. Even he didn't believe that one.

Paige reached out and placed her arm on the kid's shoulder. Then she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

John's knuckles on the steering wheel turned white.

Paige climbed into the car, buckling her seatbelt.

"I didn't know if you were hungry," she said, "Do you want to stop for-"

John took a deep breath.

"No, I'm just tired. Lets just go back to the room and rest for a little while before we hit the road."

Paige gave John a quizzical look at the strained note in his voice. She shrugged and nodded, looking onto the road.

* * *

John lay in the motel room bed, staring at the ceiling. He could feel the jealousy like poison, rising up in him. He took another breath to steady his shaking hands.

Paige came out of the bathroom, her skin clean and her hair shiny after having dried it. She was wearing her usual shorts and tank top. Thinking John was asleep, she moved quietly to the couch, making it up into a bed. John sat up.

His sudden movement startled Paige, and she turned to him and smiled. Her expression quickly changed as she gauged his tense mood.

"Are you going to tell me what is wrong?" she asked, turning back to the couch" or do I get to guess?"

John looked at her darkly.

"You're mad at me for tackling the ghost alone." John didn't respond. Clearly she thought that was the reason he was angry. Paige looked up at him, scrunching her face as she cast around for other faults. "You're mad at me because I didn't call Bobby. You're mad at me because I took Torrey with me to fight the ghost."

Paige saw his eyes flash when she said Torrey's name. Then she remembered that John had seen her innocently kiss him goodbye. Paige wasn't surprised, but she was annoyed as hell.

"Fuck you." She snapped at him.

"Well, you seem to fuck everyone else around you." John said heatedly as he stood.

"I didn't fuck him, " she hissed, her eyes filling with frustrated tears. "But even if I did, it's none of your damn business. You already made it perfectly clear that I repulse you."

"I don't want to talk about it, "

"No, " retorted Paige, "You started this. What is your problem with me?"

John stepped across the room to her, standing menacingly close. Paige stood her ground, staring up at him. Her eyes shining murderously.

"You make me sick," he snarled at her.

Without warning, his hand was fisted in her hair and he had pulled her face upwards to his own. He searched her features for a moment before taking the plunge and claiming her lips with his. There was no gentleness as he slid his tongue into her mouth and clutched her body even closer to his own. The hand not holding her head captive snaked around her waist, locking her soft body against his hard one. He held her hips to his as he moved against her, finding the friction he had been longing for since he had first dreamt of her naked and bound, completely at his mercy, on his bed.

The hand around her slid beneath her shorts and underwear and only made a cursory tour of her softly round ass before plunging into her. She wasn't prepared for his intrusion and let out a startled gasp in his mouth as he relished in the raw friction of his calloused had against her velvet entrance.

His fingers grew wet as she responded to his skilled administrations. He pulled from her lips to watch here expression as he worked her. But, as he pulled away, Paige slapped him across the face, her body still rigid from their argument, though her pupils were blown wide and her breathing was ragged as she licked her bitten lips. John returned her strike with the hand still slick from her juices, as hard as he had ever hit her in their training.

She stumbled and fell back to the couch. John pinned her there and reclaimed her lips, his hands roaming over her body as it bucked against his touch, hungry for more. He obliged her as he grabbed handfuls of her soft flesh pulling and pushing her into submission. He lifted her hips off the couch so that he could grind his still clothed cock against her warm and eager body.

She moaned into his mouth as he found her sweet spot. He hit it again and again as he pressed against her, until she had to break their lip locked battle for dominance and just started panting into his ear as she clawed at his back, pulling him closer, begging for more.

Paige climbed on top, grinning with satisfaction as she twisted herself into John's lap and earned the same kind of moan he had been pulling from her lips. John's hands hesitated for a millisecond at the hem of her shirt. Once clothing was removed, some sort of line would be crossed.

"Just take me, already." She gasped into his ear, feeling the tips of his fingers beneath her shirt, "Just do it, please."

The tank top was pulled from her arms and his hands wasted no time in clutching the heavy, perfect breasts that he had freed. He had always watched them, been aware of their size beneath layers of shirts and coats, but holding them, flicking his thumb over her rosebud nipples, was like his most depraved, perverted fantasy come to life.

Her underwear and shorts soon followed the trajectory of the tank top until she was naked, wet and trembling in his hands, pressing her vulnerable body against his clothed form. His fingers rediscovered the warmth of her and went to work, slowly curling inside of her, looking for that elusive feminine nuclear detonator. His thumb started circling her had clit and that got reaction enough. She bit his lip enough to draw blood as he suddenly pressed down on her button, hard. They both groaned in the unexpected rush of pain and pleasure, sharing a brief, knowingl grin at their mutual reaction.

John rolled her onto the motel floor as he finger fucked her with every trick, skill and talent he had learned along his travels. None of them went to waste as she began to unravel beneath his pumping hand. Biting her lip and bucking her hips, her breath hitched as she climaxed under him.

John's pants were almost painfully tented against his fully hard erection. He toed off his boots and shrugged his shirt off over his shoulders. Paige leaned up to reward his flesh with her tongue and teeth, her hands tracing his waist and hips before following the line of hair from his chest to his pants, fumbling with the zipper and button. John pulled her attention up to his face as he kissed her again. He pushed Paige back down to the floor as his other hand found his wallet in his back pocket. As he slid the condom from between the leather fold, Paige grinned in understanding. As she waited for him to roll it on, she dropped her knees to the sides of her hips opening herself to him.

It was the most erotic thing in the world. A soft, pretty young woman, inviting him into her. John growled hungrily at the sight.

John shuddered as he first sheathed himself into her tight warmth. But the rest was fast and hard. He had been patient as he fingered her to her climax, but he took this roughly and greedily. The dream images of her tied to his bed, the flashes of her covered in blood and dirt and they beat each other in training and the head rolling, throat moaning back clawing ecstasy before him sprinted though his mind as he shot his load into the condom.

John collapsed against after he had released everything he had. The sweat from their rapid coupling bound their skin together.

Paige stroked her fingers though his hair and down his spine as he recovered. Paige didn't seem bothered by his weight against her. In fact, she seemed comforted by it, holding an arm across his waist while the other skimmed his spine. And John felt comfort in her breath on his neck, her fingers on his back. Comfort he didn't realize he had missed until in washed over him in her arms.

* * *

"Do you really hate me?" asked Paige after a few moments of silence.

John slid off of her and looked into her eyes. She was so young, he thought. And for a moment he felt guilt over the things he said to her. He pushed the hair away from her face and he kissed her temple. Then he kissed her eyelids and finally landed sweetly on her mouth.

"No," he said," I don't hate you. I said those things… because I wanted to hurt you."

Paige looked up at him, completely confused.

"Because I disgust you?"

"No. You don't disgust me." John took a deep breath. He had guessed this about her, but now that his hypothesis was proving true, he would have to practice patience. " I said those things, because I was disgusted with myself. Being around you makes me feel things… that aren't always nice.

"Like jealousy," he said, "I get jealous of you. And I get insecure about the age thing. I think that you might be happier with a younger man. Someone more like you. "

"I was insecure about the age thing, too." She said with a weak smile, "I was afraid you would like someone older and more experienced. Maybe a little smarter and tougher than me… like Ellen."

Paige let her name hang in the air between them, wanting conformation of her suspicion. This was not lost on John.

"Ellen… is complicated." Said John, then looking up at Paige he quickly corrected himself. "Not, sexually, but… I knew her late husband. I hunted with her late husband. I was there when he died. I was the reason he died."

John looked away from Paige's face, looking at her fingers on his chest.

Paige kissed his forehead, and they lay silently on the floor as they recovered.

" Where are you going?" John mumbled into the dark as Paige began to untangle herself from his strong arms.

"You're boring, " Paige whispered, "I'm going to find a younger man who can satisfy me. "

John lay quiet for a moment as her words sunk in, then he began to laugh. He pulled her down again and rolled her under him. Paige felt him pressed against her, knowing that he was almost ready for more. She leaned up and kissed him. John's hands cupped her face for a moment and his tongue quickly darted into her mouth.

As Paige was about to lean into his kiss, he pulled away and softly pushed her back down on the floor. Tenderly, this time, John kissed his way down her body to the little patch of fuzz between her legs.

"Shut up, you youngun' let me show you one of the benefits of experience," he said with a mischievous smile.

Slowly and meticulously he kissed her thighs and licked her, sliding his fingers into her and watching her rise up to meet him. He brought her just to the edge when he entered her again.

Time lost all meaning. Daylight came and went and came again without either noticing. Both were content to be shrouded in a haze of sex and sleep. They forgot about eating and drinking, they forgot about the people they had been before and the people they would be when they left that motel.

As John slept, he would reach out and touch her, almost as if to make sure he knew where she was. Enjoying, for the first time in years, companionship as he slept


	6. Chapter 6: And The Show Must Go On

"Well, how was the hunt?" asked Bobby as Paige and John walked up to the front door.

"I knocked it out of the park," said Paige, nonchalantly. "All by myself, "

Bobby looked at John, surprised. John shrugged, happy to let Paige bask in the victory of her conquest. Bobby walked inside with Paige, listening to her recount her first successful hunt like a proud parent.

John was afraid that Bobby would sense the change. Just a few hours ago, John had needed to pull over to the side of the road. As he was driving, Paige scooted over to him and put her hand on his thigh. She kissed his cheek, then his ear and moved her hand between his legs.

"Pull over, " she said in his ear, as she sucked the lobe between her teeth, "I want you right here and now."

He had barely put the car in park when she unzipped him and pulled him into her mouth. He came hard in only a few minutes, like a teenager.

It had been two days since they had been in the motel room in Minnesota, and hardly eight hours could pass without them fucking. They were together in parking lots, in other motel rooms and one adventurous night under a canopy of trees.

John was beginning to crave her. His body was becoming accustomed to hers being available whenever the mood struck him. And more dangerous still was how he was becoming accustomed to her company. He would reach for her in the night, and watch her sleep after they had been together. He would feel instantly at peace whenever he saw her.

No, decided John, it wasn't love. I was becoming something very similar to it though. He didn't love her like he had loved his wife. That kind of love that is calm and consistent. Paige was like a rush of energy and lust. Paige was a tornado that consumed him roughly and quickly, before inevitably tossing him aside. His wife had been like a gentle stream.

But his attachment to her was still a liability.

Nothing had changed, he thought, since he first wanted her. He cared about her, more than he cared about anyone besides his own sons. She was still young, naive, and a huge risk to them both when they were together.

Paige didn't ask why they had returned to Bobby's. Since she had never really hunted before, John reasoned that she probably didn't know usual protocol. But John came to Bobby's with Paige and he planned to leave without her. She needed to finish her training, and John needed to get back on the hunt for the yellow-eyed demon. He knew it was a suicide mission. And he knew that he couldn't let anyone go with him.

John went to the bathroom and washed up. As he looked in the mirror, he realized how old he looked.

The circles under his eyes revealed how little actual sleep he had gotten. The wrinkles around his mouth and on his forehead engulfed him. His back was sore from sleeping on floors and hard ground wherever he and a naked, sweaty Paige collapsed.

By most standards, he was not an old man. But, the weight of 23 years of fighting and losing friend after friend weighed on him. Paige was a diversion. A drug to take away the darkness of a war that he was losing.

When he left the bathroom, Paige and Bobby were getting up from the kitchen table to do some research. Bobby signaled for Paige to start without him, and he and John walked into the front yard.

"Well, this may be the worst I've seen you in a long time, " Bobby started abruptly. "And I'm including the time that ghoul almost took your ear off. "

John looked down at the ground and nodded.

"You look tired and sore. " he continued, "but I guess trying to keep up with a hormonal twenty something can be exhausting."

John glanced up at Bobby as he touched the truth; he looked guilty, like a kid who was caught taking a cookie from the jar.

"Goddamn it," swore Bobby, "Why would you even start that? In what universe would that ever be a good idea? " Bobby paused, "You're leaving her here, aren't you. You're going to run off and chase yellow eyes to your own death. Well, I'm damn glad that you got to have one last fling before you off yourself, but how is she gonna feel when she wakes up one morning and finds out you're dead?"

"I fucked up Bobby, "said John, "I can't think clearly when she's around. I can't take yellow eyes down while I worry about her. She's safer with you."

"Are you going to say goodbye?" asked Bobby, "or just run off in the middle of the night like a bandit, leaving me to try and keep her from running off after you?"

John didn't answer, but Bobby had guessed the truth. In the time he had known him, Bobby had seen John run more often than he had seen him stay. He would sometimes leave his boys without saying goodbye, let alone some girl he was having a fling with.

"I can't make you do anything, " said Bobby, "and I'll stay out of your business. But don't leave without saying goodbye. She's all but doodled your name in her notebooks. I swear, it's always 'John this' and 'John that' with her. Except, of course, when it's Lang. Girl is susceptible to hero worship."

John laughed at that.

"She probably doesn't know the difference between whatever perverted thing you have going on and real love. But you need to tell her why you're leaving. She deserves that."

John nodded, but didn't respond.

"You can leave without saying a word, but if you do, don't ever come asking for any favors from me again. " Bobby said. "We'll be done."

* * *

John was under the hood of his car, his bags stowed away. He was annoyed with the machine, every second he spent at Bobby's was another opportunity to go back to Paige and fall into her bed.

His pants got a little bit tighter whenever he remembered her, lying on her back on the floor of their motel room. Her eyes closed and her large breasts pooling against her chest. For that weekend, she had been his completely do do with as he wanted. If he remembered correctly, he took that particular opportunity to gentry rouse her from her dream and roll her over so he could enter her from behind.

He would never be with her again, but that would only bother him if he thought about it. So he didn't.

"You running away again?" asked Paige from behind him.

He had heard her approach. She was lighter and faster than Bobby. John finished screwing the bolt into place when he slowly turned around.

"No," he lied, "I just wanted to fix my truck. You heard it rattling on the interstate."

"You weren't going to say goodbye," Paige guessed, seeing through his lie, "You don't seem like the type to have sentimental farewells. "

John didn't answer, just looked at the hood of his car and his hand. The truth was, a goodbye would be an opportunity for Paige to talk him into staying.

There had been several 'Paige's before; women whom he felt comfortable with, who opened their beds and their futures to him.

He could easily just pick up an entire life with any of them, away from hunting. There were always women that he could build something with. And some lonely moments like these made that offer look tempting.

He was a dead man walking, and he had been for a while. No, Paige wasn't Mary. She wasn't trying to be. But she could save him from his suicidal march to the demon.

She wasn't crying, like she often did when she was frustrated. She stood, strong, her arms crossed. Maybe she wasn't so young and naive after all.

John had turned on the stereo earlier while he worked, hoping the music would help him forget what he was doing and where he was going. The song changed to "Help Me Make it Through the Night." Paige had a soft spot for Willie Nelson Ballads.

John stepped away from the car and held out his hand to Paige. Paige raised her eyebrow and looked at him skeptically.

"What? Are we in a romantic comedy?"

"No jokes, Paige. Not right now."

Paige nodded obediently and took his hand. He pulled her close and swayed with her. Neither were particularly good dancers. John put his nose in her hair and inhaled her scent. She smelled of vanilla and jasmine and a thousand beautiful maybes.

Maybe he could stay with her. Maybe he would live and could come back to her. Maybe he could say fuck it all and try to enjoy what little life he had left that hadn't been stolen by the endless hunt.

"Don't cry," John said, intending it as an order but meaning it as a plea.

Paige had toughened up since he had known her. She could take a punch and then swing one right back without a blink. She could analyze the odds of someone who might live and someone who would die. But he had never been able to get her to stop crying.

If Paige started to cry, John was sure that he would have to stay. The fact was that he couldn't have his last memory of her standing by the side of the road with red eyes and wet cheeks.

Paige nodded, but didn't reply. John held her closer still. They were hardly dancing anymore, it had become an extended embrace. John bent down and kissed her.

Paige lay in his arms after they made love. John's body was curled along her back and his nose was nestled in the back of her neck. His arm was wrapped around her chest and fingers entwined in front of her.

"You'll be here when I wake up, right?" she asked.

John stroked her hair and kissed the back of her neck.

"Of course." He lied.

* * *

Paige had recognized the lie, but she didn't correct him. She understood. This demon was his life goal, and revenge, the revenge of his wife, was almost at hand.

She knew he didn't love her. The man still wore his wedding ring, for God's sake. But they were connected. And he had told her before, that he couldn't protect her all the time, especially if it came down to her or his boys. Paige knew that she wasn't strong enough to protect him, not that it would come down to it.

John was walking into death, and Paige wasn't sure that he wanted anyone to try and save him.

Paige knew as well as anyone, though John and Bobby tried to hide it from her. It was easier to let them both think that she didn't really understand, just as it was easier to let John think that she believed him.

But she had somehow assumed that when she got in his car that first night, that they would be together for years, even decades. He was the closest friend she had. The only friend, besides Bobby at all. And now he was marching to his death.

After a while, Paige closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, feigning sleep. John gently kissed her shoulder one last time, careful not to disturb her. He slid out of her embrace and silently dressed and climbed into his car.

With Paige's back to him, she could finally cry openly as he snuck away.

* * *

Paige laid on the ground for a few more minutes, and took a deep breath. Every time she cried, she swore to herself that it was the last time. This was no exception.

She sat up and wiped the gravel off of her shoulder, the tiny rocks leaving fading evidence of her last encounter with John in her skin. As she wiped away her last tear, she sat for a few minutes, thinking.

She got up and walked over to the covered car in the corner of Bobby's immense junkyard. She slid off the cover and a gleaming red 1958 Cadillac sat before her.

Bobby was drinking whiskey, like he almost always did, which meant that he would probably be asleep in front of the TV until around 4am.

Paige loved Bobby like an eccentric uncle. So she felt a little bad as she began to scrap together bits and pieces from surrounding cars to finish off the Cadillac. The Cadillac was Bobby's baby. He had been hunting down exact classic pieces for years, but Paige began scrapping together whatever pieces would make the car run.

Once again, she had let Bobby underestimate her. As he worked on his cars in his shop, he had Paige running laps and reciting exorcism spells until she had memorized them.

But she had also watched him work. And she had learned enough to finish up the Cadillac. Once she was sure it would run, she snuck into Bobby's house and began packing her scant belongings.

She slipped into his office and easily cracked the code for the hidden safe, pulling out fake id's and credit cards. Finally, she went into the basement and stole a shotgun, a pistol and enough magic supplies for a half dozen exorcisms. Once she had packed a bag full of her bootlegged weapons, she stood for a moment, considering. Making up her mind, she went back in the house and took an armful of her favorite hunter journals. As she turned to leave, she saw Bobby passed out on his couch.

Her resolve dipped. Paige hated leaving him. He would never admit it, but Bobby liked having her around. She made sure he took his cholesterol medicine and she did his laundry every week, not just when he ran out of clean clothes altogether. Paige was pretty sure he'd be ticked that she took his stuff, but she knew he would miss having someone around most of all.

But Paige couldn't say goodbye in person. He wouldn't let her go. He would pretend to acquiesce that she had to go her own way eventually, but Paige knew that he still entertained ideas of keeping her under his wing, away in his safe house like a child.

Paige walked over and pulled the bottle of whiskey from his arm, where it was cradled like a baby. He must have had an argument with John, she guessed. That would explain his nursing the bottle rather than using a glass.

As Paige pulled off his shoes and tucked him under a blanket, she suddenly wanted to make sure she stayed alive long enough to see him again. She suddenly wanted to make him understand why she left like she did. But she was a hunter now, and that means never being able to guarantee things like coming back home.

She was about to walk out the door when, as an after thought, she went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of cholesterol pills and scribbled a note that she left on the table.

"_Take these everyday. Go easy on the whiskey" _

With that, Paige slipped out the door and into the Cadillac. The sun was just beginning to peek up over the horizon as she sped off.

* * *

**Hey kids, if you want more John and Paige, go check out "The Last Student: Directors Cuts." It is a series of one shots that fit inot this fan fiction, but that I didn't put in my actual fic for space sake. Some are kinky, some are sweet some are kinda dark. It goes a lot more in depth with the relationship dynamics between the two than I could justify putting in the actual "official" (God, that makes me sound lame) story line of Paige's adventures. . **

**Thanks for reading, I look forward to your reviews. Because I know that you're all going to leave me reviews. Right?**


	7. Chapter 7: War and Pieces

**So, since I have people who reviewed and encouraged, I've decided to continue my story. Thanks for the support you guys! **

**Now, I just want to emphasize that my story is based on my character Paige, and then the cast of Supernatural comes in and interacts. Think of it as like all your favorite characters when they aren't interacting with Sam and Dean. They're somewhere doing something. Sometimes they wind up hanging around with Paige for a while, but they still follow the Supernatural time line. **

**So, just a heads up, this chapter focuses on Paige winding up at the Harvelle Roadhouse with Ellen and Jo. I don't want people to freak out and go all "New Moon" on me, asking "but where's John?"**

**So, again, please read and review! You guys rock!**

* * *

Paige's shovel finally hit the coffin. She felt like she had been digging for years. Her arms ached and she longed to swipe the sweat from her brow, but as her entire body was coated in dirt, she knew that doing so would just make even more of a mess. Paige rested for a moment as the bones burned before her.

It had been five weeks since she had left Bobby's, and this was the third ghost she had taken out.

Bobby had tried to call a dozen times. Eventually she changed her number. She was reluctant at first, still clinging onto an insane idea that John might call her, if just to tell her he was still alive. After a week, Paige realized that it probably wasn't going to happen. In all likelihood, John was probably dead.

Despite John and Bobby's extreme aversion to witchcraft, Paige found various spells to be necessary. She placed a protective charm on her Cadillac, to stop demons from finding it. She also placed a couple of spells to extend gas mileage and reduce wear and tear on the car. Once or twice she had even placed a cloaking spell on the Cadillac. The bright red car, though stylish, was extremely noticeable.

Now Paige was running on hardly any magic supplies. While some things, like salt and bullets were easy enough to come by, some especially magical ingredients were scarcer.

Paige wasn't about to call Bobby. She couldn't face him yet. But, she had seen multiple references in the journals to a bar. From what she could gather, it was a hunter bar. Paige was wary of walking blind into a lion's den of hunters, but it was her best lead to where to get some supplies.

Harvelle Roadhouse was crowded when Paige arrived that night. Though pegged as a hunter bar, Paige suddenly realized that there were non-players there too. She would have to first determine who was a hunter and who was a civilian, then try to determine who was trustworthy and who would screw her over. 'Tall order' she thought to herself.

The seats were full, so Paige stood by the bar and waited for the young blonde bartender's attention. As she settled herself in, a drunken man with a mullet sauntered over to her. In a split second, Paige decided her best defense was the dumb sorority girl. To her displeasure, it was her easiest character to adopt. It had even come in handy once or twice. People sometimes spoke more freely around someone whom they thought they could outsmart.

"I'm Ash." He slurred. "And I got what you need."

Paige tried not to roll her eyes. He could either be a typical drunk man in a bar, convinced that his cock was God's gift to women, or he could be a fellow hunter. And Paige needed the help of a fellow hunter, any hunter. As Paige hesitated, the bartender came to her rescue.

"Ash, keep it in your pants." She turned to Paige, and looked her up and down for a moment; "I haven't seen you here before. Do you play?"

"I do. "Replied Paige, relieved that someone could help.

"You're young, so I'm going to guess that you're new, " the bartender said in a cool tone, "We don't just let people traipse in here and start doing business. You need a connection to get in. If you got a connection, we're here to help. If you don't, well, you can just finish your drink and move on."

Paige hesitated. She was unsure whom to give as a connection. John, though generally well known was not notoriously popular. Bobby, on the other hand, was extremely popular. So popular, that Paige was sure they would call him and give him a heads up as to where she was.

Well, he hadn't tracked her down yet. Maybe she could slip away from him again.

"Bobby Singer"

The girl looked mildly surprised, but nodded to a woman at the other end of the bar. Paige's stomach dropped as she recognized her.

Ellen.

Paige was suddenly relieved that she hadn't said John's name.

Ellen walked over to Paige and the bartender. She looked Paige up and down like the bartender had.

"Paige. " Said Ellen, "Come with me to my office."

The young bartender made to follow, but Ellen gave her a stern look.

"Jo Beth, you stay out here."

When they got to her office, Ellen gestured to a chair for Paige to sit in. Ellen poured Paige a whiskey and poured herself a good two fingers measure.

"Well, you've got a couple of persistent friends." Ellen started without preamble, sitting across from Paige, "I've been fielding calls from Bobby and John for weeks. You just up and disappeared. But you're alive. And I assume you've been hunting. You must not be as green as they seem to think."

Paige shrugged. She tried to control her eagerness at the sound of John's name. She wanted to ask Ellen what he had said. How he was. Where he was.

"Yes, even John. " Ellen said, reading her reaction to his name, "You must be special to him. I don't think he cares about anyone enough to follow up on them. Besides his sons, maybe. He's fine. For now. He and his boys just flushed out a vampire nest."

"I didn't ask." Paige said, trying not to sound like a trite teenager.

Ellen's eyes crinkled as she gave a sad smile.

"That's what I'll tell him when he calls again. "

"He still thinks he needs to protect me. But he doesn't remember that this life… it means never being protected. Even the most seasoned hunter can get caught unaware."

Ellen nodded as if to agree that it was all too true. She was quiet for a minute, waiting for Paige to say why she was really there.

"I'm running low on supplies, " Paige said, leaning forward and whispering, despite the fact that they were alone in Ellen's office. "Willow root, boar hair, bone dust."

Ellen nodded.

"Understandable," she said, "but you're gonna need real money, as in cash. Bobby said you stole some of his credit cards. That's fine, that's how most of us work. But amongst each other, we use cash or we trade.

"And frankly, honey, you've only taken out a couple of ghosts. You don't have anything but your body to sell." Ellen paused for a moment, "there are some hunters who will take that as currency, but I recommend you don't use it unless under extreme circumstances. No one will take you seriously as a hunter when they hear that."

Paige shook her head quickly, no, she wasn't that desperate. Ellen continued, looking a little relieved.

"Well, we do have a resident scumbag who can get you your supplies. I believe he already tried to seduce you. Ash. He's disgusting, but brilliant and harmless. He does good business here. Now, do you have cash?"

Paige hesitated and nodded.

"But not enough for everything you need." Ellen guessed. "Well, and I want you to know that I don't do this for everyone, but you can work here for a little while. A weekend or two and you should have enough to get your supplies."

"Thank you, "said Paige, taken aback, "That is incredibly kind"

"Well," said Ellen, "people in this business are huge contradictions, they usually need help more than anyone else in the world, but they're the last ones to ask for it. That's what I'm here for. That's what this bar is for. "

* * *

"That is one hell of a gin and tonic." Said the young bartender, Jo.

Paige had learned that she was Ellen's daughter of her late husband and she was the same age as Paige.

"You're being sarcastic, aren't you?" asked Paige with a rueful smile.

Page was turning out to be a terrible bartender. She mixed up drinks, she spilled a lot and was easily flustered. Fortunately, the bar had closed and Jo was just teaching her a few basics.

"Maybe you'll wait tables or something." Jo said, laughing.

Paige liked Jo and Ellen. Ellen had a tough confidence that she aspired to and Jo was one of the most agreeable people Paige had met in a while. Paige couldn't remember the last time she had hung out with a girl her own age.

Jo pulled out a bottle of whiskey. Paige had lived with Bobby for three weeks but had drunk more whiskey in this single night.

Hunters, it seemed, drank a lot, and they didn't fuss around with mixers. It was whiskey or beer. And beer was only acceptable if you needed to sober up from too much whiskey.

Paige was just beginning to feel buzzed. Ellen and Jo insisted that Paige stay with them, and Paige agreed. She had been on her own for about a month, and the loneliness was getting to her. She missed Bobby, who took care of her as much as she took care of him. And she missed John more than she was comfortable with. She had to keep reminding herself that her relationship with John was temporary and mostly sexual.

"OK" said Jo, "What's your deal?"

"My deal?" asked Paige.

Ellen had come over to the bar from the back room and sat next to Paige. She reached across the bar to grab herself a beer. She raised her eyebrows at Jo, as if to warn her not to poke the bear.

"Its fine." Said Paige in response to Ellen's quiet warning, "You guys are being so trusting of me, I might as well return the favor. "

"So," said Jo, "What's your deal? Revenge? It's almost always revenge."

Paige nodded.

"Yes, curtain has been lifted. I have seen all the monsters and ghosts that are out there. I can't ignore their presence. And I can't sit idly by as they kill."

"Who are you avenging? A parent? A sibling? A lover?" asked Jo, intrigued by the drama.

"My son." Said Paige.

"Well, I'll be damned, "said Ellen, "You seem too young to have been through that."

"I think don't think anyone is ever old enough for that." Paige nodded, "I had him when I was nineteen, and he died about six months later."

"Do you know what did it?" asked Jo.

Paige shook her head.

"I was away from him at the time. I saw flames and I came running back. The house was on fire and there was someone by my son's crib. A bunch of hunters came and saved me but it was too late for Abraham. I travelled around with the hunters for a couple of years, but they died too."

Jo looked at Ellen, who gave Paige a thoughtful look. Ellen pursed her lips for a moment, as if considering whether or not to speak.

"That sounds like one hell of a demon. " she said, "I wish you luck in your vengeance. God knows I've wanted mine for years."

Jo looked at her mother, as if questioning her. But she kept her mouth shut.

* * *

Jo led Paige to her room above the bar as the morning light tried to stream through the door. Paige was sharing a room with her as she worked in the bar.

Jo was shameless as she stripped off her clothes.

"So, I usually go to sleep in my underwear," said Jo, "but I'll put some sweat pants on tonight for decency sake. "

Paige giggled. She had brought up her bag of goods, and was climbing into her own standard shorts and tank top. Jo climbed into one side of the queen sized bed and left room for Paige on the other side.

Both laid with their eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

Paige had driven all day and been awake all night, but she wasn't tired. If anything, she felt more energized than she had in months. Paige glanced over at Jo, who was awake as well. Jo spoke into the quiet room.

"How long have you been hunting? On your own?"

"Almost a year, I guess." Answered Paige, "I wandered for about nine months before I met John and his sons. I really had no idea what I was doing. John trained me for a little while, then Bobby. I ran off. Been hunting by myself for about another month or so."

"I want to hunt too. " said Jo, "It's so cool that you just took off. They treat us like kids, you know? But I'm not a kid. My Mom wants me to go to college. Can you imagine me in college?"

"I totally pegged you for a Phi Kappa Theta" Paige said, deadpan.

Jo laughed and hit Paige with her elbow, Paige hit her back. They giggled for a while longer.

"When did your dad die?" asked Paige.

"Before I can remember." Admitted Jo," I miss him, but then I remember that I never knew him. Is that weird?"

"Not at all." said Paige, "I get it. You had this whole track your life could have gone on, and it was stolen from you. Suddenly everything is different from, whatever the hell it could be. And it isn't fair. You want to steal it right back."

"Exactly." Said Jo sounding surprised. "You're wiser than you look. Maybe it's the boobs and the big doe eyes."

"I had a feeling." Paige said with a chuckle.

* * *

Paige's first night in the bar was a hit.

She quickly learned that almost everyone who sat at the bar was a hunter, while everyone who was a local or civilian hung around the tables. There was a small tension between the two, as if the locals sensed that there was some business here that was shady and dangerous. The two groups never interacted. But politely respected each other's territory.

Paige was a bit overwhelmed by the interest in her own life and back-story. She had always assumed that hunters would be like Bobby and John; taciturn, sullen, gruff.

Jo had mentioned that since most hunters travelled on their own, they relished in the company of others. Most the players in the bar didn't really need anything except to stave off the loneliness of their solitary existence.

As the night wound down, Jo had disappeared with a mischievous wink and a local. Paige had smiled and waved from the bar as she took over.

A hunter and with an impressive beard was telling Paige about a werewolf he had finished hunting.

"So," he said, "what's your big bad demon?"

Paige smiled at him as she poured him yet another drink. The man was barely even slurring his speech but Paige had already signaled to Ellen that this man would need to stay the night, he was too drunk to drive.

"Are we talking supernatural or personal?" asked Paige with a smile.

The old hunter laughed hard at that one. Yup, he was too drunk to drive home.

"Yeah, honey, we all got one." Said the old hunter, "The demon who took so much that it drove you to give up your life and hunt the bastard."

Ellen had begun to draw nearer to Paige and this man as the last patrons left the bar. She was collecting the last of the dirty glasses on the counter as Paige briefly retold her encounter with the demon that killed her son.

"Huh," said the hunter, rubbing his massive beard. Paige looked up at him. He was the first person she had told who seemed to know who the demon might be, "so, your son was six months old? And a fire? Mother being held to the ceiling? I don't suppose you've ever heard of a hunter by the name John Winchester?"

Ellen looked up too, she glanced from the hunter to Paige. Paige tried to keep a straight face besides the fact that her blood turned cold as she heard John's name.

"Well, he's a damn good hunter. One of the best I've ever met. That sounds like the demon that killed his wife. Almost killed his youngest son too. Man has been obsessively tracking it his whole life. Azazel? I think." The old man nodded, confirming his own question, "Yeah, I helped him out about a year ago. Said he had seen the signs in some rural Montana town. If you want help tracking it, he's your man. Though, he doesn't always play well with others."

The hunter grinned a toothless smile at Paige.

"Of course, for a pretty woman, he might make an exception."

"Ok, Doug, " Ellen cut in, "You're done, I'm putting you to bed."

Doug stood compliantly, allowing himself to be led by Ellen to the back room. When Ellen returned, Paige was still standing where Ellen had left her. Ellen was cautious, but she answered Paige's unspoken question.

"Yeah, I knew," her shoulders fell as she saw the betrayed expression on Paige's face. "I have known John longer than I've known you. Our past is… complicated, but I trusted that he knew what he was doing when he didn't tell you the truth. John tells more lies and has more secrets than anyone I've ever known, but I trust that he knows what he's doing."

"You trust him?" Paige asked cruelly "didn't he get your husband killed?"

Ellen nodded, only mildly surprised that John had told Paige the truth about her husband.

"He was there, but he wasn't the cause." Ellen conceded. "He tried to run, my husband tried to stand his ground. Demon was too much for him. If John had stayed, we would have just had two dead hunters instead of one.

"It took me a long time to forgive John for that. Honestly, I don't think he ever forgave himself. John and I go way back. I knew him when he was just beginning. "

Paige's leaned against the bar for support. Everyone, it seemed, knew what had killed her son, her parents, maybe even her friends. Everyone, that is, except her.

"Are you going to be here in the morning?" asked Ellen cautiously.

Paige tried to be mad at Ellen, but failed miserably. Ellen was watching out for her old friend, but she was taking care of Paige too. Neither Bobby nor John had showed up and snatched her. Ellen hadn't blown Paige's cover at least. No, she couldn't be angry with Ellen. Or Jo, whom Paige now understood, probably knew the whole time as well.

Paige nodded to answer Ellen's question. Nothing had changed; she needed supplies.

That was a lie. Everything had changed. She gave John _everything_ she had. It didn't look like much by virtue of her not really having much to give. She knew he didn't love her. It hurt, but she accepted it. But she thought he at least wanted to help her.

She had cried in his arms as she told him about the demon who took everything from her. And he was silent. They were fighting the same demon, and he left her to fight it alone.

Not only had he robbed Paige of the truth, he took away the only thing she was living for: revenge.

* * *

The next afternoon, as the three women were preparing to open, the phone rang. Jo, who was standing closest to it answered.

"Harvelle Roadhouse, what do you want?"

Jo's expression and glance at Paige told them that it was John on the other line. Her guilty silence must have tipped John off as well. They could hear his agitated voice as he ordered Jo to give the phone to Ellen.

Ellen gave Jo a long look as she took the phone. Jo joined Paige with her back against the bar. She gave Paige's fingers a quick squeeze. Paige gave Jo a nervous smile, and the two stood like children, ready for a scolding. Ellen listened to John's growling on the other end of the line, checking Paige's face for signs if she was ready to talk to John herself. She wasn't.

"She passed through here about a day ago." Ellen said, exasperated, "I can't put her on the line, she isn't here."

Clearly, John didn't believe her. The growls grew in volume and frequency. Paige took a deep breath and stepped forward, hand outstretched. Ellen looked at her questioningly, then handed Paige the phone.

"… and if you know where the hell she is, you need to fucking tell me. She has no clue what she's doing out there. If she gets killed, her blood is on your hands as well as mine." John finished.

"Oh, I think the scales are tipped a little more in your favor," said Paige coolly.

John let out a long exhale.

"Paige, Paige." His voice broke from relief at hearing her voice. Paige steeled herself not to let down her resolve. "I was so worried, " he whispered, "thank god."

"How can I help you?" Paige asked coldly.

"Why did you leave, Paige? " asked John, regaining his composure. His usual displeasure at being defied returned. "Bobby called me, furious. Said you left with his car and some half assed note." He paused for a beat, and continued in a voice that ever so slightly betrayed his pride. "He's been trying to track you. We're both surprised at how well you're covering your tracks, especially in that car."

John paused, waiting for Paige to say something or explain herself. She was silent, so he continued.

"I'm coming to get you. I'm taking you back to Bobby's, and I'll be damned if we have to lock you up there, you aren't ready, and you're not about to get yourself killed."

"Don't you dare come and get me," hissed Paige, surprising both Ellen and Jo who were leaning against the bar, listening to the conversation. She must have surprised John a little too, since there was silence at the other end of the line. "I'm a big girl, John, and you died the moment you drove away. If I see you again, I will shoot you."

And with that, Paige hung up the phone.

Ellen's expression was unreadable. Jo, however, walked forward with her palm held up, waiting for a high-five. She was laughing at Paige's daring.

"Did you have sex with him?" asked Ellen, suddenly.

Jo dropped her hand, but looked at Paige with new awe. Ellen's eyes remained coldly analytical.

Paige nodded.

Jo let out a loud gasp but smiled widely and wrapped her arms around her friend.

"You. Are. The most Badass." Jo said, "one: John is damn sexy, two: you _told_ that damn sexy son of a bitch. "

Paige looked at Ellen over Jo's shoulder. More than anything, Paige wanted Ellen's approval. Ellen looked wary, but she smiled.

"Honey, you stay here as long as you want. As long as you're here, we'll keep John away." Ellen said. Jo nodded in agreement.

Paige smiled at her two new friends.

* * *

As the week wore on, Paige's confidence in telling John off began to wane. She wished she had asked him where he was.

'Objectively,' the last fading shred of her dignity defended, 'he probably wouldn't have told you the truth anyways.'

She worried that John would show up anyways. March into the bar and grab her by the arm, dragging her out like she was a rebellious teen.

And she was afraid to confront him. She was afraid that when she looked into those green eyes that she had trusted so much, knowing that he had lied, it would hurt a million times more.

However, it wasn't John, but Bobby, who came into the bar a few nights later. He nervously came to the bar and sat, looking at Paige. John must have called him. He also probably gave him a heads up that she was on the warpath. But watching Bobby fidget in his barstool, trying to catch her eye made Paige's heart melt. Bobby had always looked out for her.

"Bobby, I know." Said Paige, as several surrounding patrons went to the jukebox, celebrating a night with few locals.

"I figured it would only be a matter of time, " Bobby said, looked into her eyes with his blue ones. He readied himself for her verbal attack.

"I'm not mad at you," she said, "You and John go way back, I'm sure you respected our relationship too much to interfere. "

Bobby looked relieved as Paige forgave him. Without asking, Paige poured him a whiskey. Bobby drank it down and signaled for a second. Paige obliged him. After he drank his second whiskey, he spoke.

"I've been worried, Paige."

It was Paige's turn to look guilty.

"I'm so sorry Bobby. " she said, "I'm sorry for the stealing, and the running off. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye."

Bobby shrugged like it was no big deal.

"I don't care about that, " he looked down at his hands uncomfortably, "I was just mad that you didn't return my calls. I thought you were dead."

Paige nodded sadly.

Bobby but his hand on hers. Bobby didn't do physical affection often, so Paige looked up at him surprised.

"I'm damn proud of you." He said.

Paige smiled up at him.

"Bobby," said Paige after a minute, "Is that a new hat?"

Bobby touched his trucker's hat. It was stiff and clean. He didn't answer her.

"And, Bobby, " Paige continued, "that's your _nice_ flannel shirt. The one without holes or bleach stains."

"You trimmed your beard!" said Paige as she lowered herself to the bar and looked at Bobby under the brim of his hat. His already ruddy cheeks were glowing.

"You didn't do this for my benefit." Paige glanced around the bar, as if whomever Bobby had intended to impress would appear. Bobby guiltily looked across the bar. Paige followed his eyes, comprehension dawning on her face. "_Ellen? _That's wonderful! She never said anything! How long have you guys been together?"

"No! Not Ellen, she's an old friend."

"Uh-huh, " said Paige. "Well, you just admitted that you got yourself all cleaned up for a lady."

Paige pantomimed looking around the bar for the intended audience.

"Huh, and you didn't know who would be here. You must be after Jo," Paige said with mock conviction, "She's a catch, Bobby. I wish you well."

"Would you lower your damn voice, idiot?" Bobby hissed, "Ellen, ok? Ellen. You won." Bobby shuddered, "Just because you and John were into that Freudian mess, doesn't mean we all are."

Bobby sighed, glancing at Ellen across the room. She hadn't overheard their conversation but gave Bobby a nod and a small wave.

"She doesn't know." Said Bobby in a low voice." Ok? Just, don't bring it up. I don't think it would be well received. I was a friend with her husband too, you know. We've been through a lot together."

Paige rolled her eyes at Bobby.

"I bet she would be more open than you think." Said Paige, resuming her bar work, a little bored by the anti-climax. Bobby and Ellen. A lot of crazier things had happened. She looked back up at him over her work. " She doesn't have a boyfriend."

Bobby waved his hand, as though the conversation was an annoying gnat he longed to swat away. But as he looked down at the bar, Paige saw the minute crinkles of a smile appear at the corners of his mouth.

* * *

Around midnight, most of the patron's had gone home. It was a weekday and it was raining pretty heavily. Bobby and Ellen were sitting at the bar, while Jo was dancing alone at the jukebox. She shook and shimmied as she sang along with Heart about Magic Men. Under the pretext of sweeping up when the song came on, Jo had only the broom to keep her company on the dance floor

Paige was watching as she wiped down tables, smiling and yelling in the chorus when it came. Despite Jo's best efforts, she couldn't convince Paige to dance with her.

Paige was returning from dropping the dishes in the sink when she noticed the tension in the room. As she looked to the front door, she noticed why.

John stood there, drenching wet and looking right at Paige.

The first thing she felt was, unfortunately, a flip in her lower stomach. Her body remembered John before her mind remembered why she was angry with him. However her mind brought up the lies, the deception. He had made her into an ignorant fool. She remembered lying in his arms, telling him everything. And he didn't tell her the single thing she needed to know the most.

"I warned you not to come," Paige mustered, surprising herself with how strong her voice sounded. Ellen and Bobby stood, getting between John and Paige, quietly choosing sides. Jo stood by the jukebox, watching, but Paige saw her step back, and ready herself to jump at him. Paige was overwhelmed with her friends' support.

John barely spared his old friends a look, when his eyes landed back on Paige. They were cold, authoritative. Half of Paige wanted to submit to him again, and screw his brains out on the pool table, the other half wanted to hurt him.

"Why didn't you tell me John?" she asked, finally.

"You had to know I was leaving." He said, "I thought you understood that I don't do goodbyes."

"I meant about Azazel." Paige said coldly, "The whole time, you must have figured out that that was what killed my son, my friends. How could you not tell me?"

The color drained from John's face as he looked around the room at Jo, Bobby and Ellen. Understanding dawned on him.

"I was afraid you would insist on going." He said, "and I wanted to kill him even more now. I wanted to kill him for you too."

"You took it away from me," said Paige, eyes welling with tears, "you took the only thing that had me going. I wanted to kill him. I wanted revenge."

John took a step forward, but Bobby pulled a gun from his jeans. He pointed it at John. John looked at Bobby, hurt.

"She would have died, Bobby." John said in quiet defeat, "She would have gone off to fight him and died. "

"Dying for him would have been preferable to living a lifetime and never getting the chance." Paige said before Bobby could reply. "Now get out, before I shoot you myself, you deceitful dick."

Bobby turned the safety off his gun with a click that echoed through the room.

John gave his friend a long, sad stare, then looked at Paige. He didn't look confident anymore. He looked tired, and sad.

He looked old. For the first time, Paige could see every single one of his almost 50 years lined in his face.

John held up his hands, and backed out of the bar. Everyone in the room turned to Paige. She wiped away the single tear that escaped her. Her last tear. Bobby and Ellen retired to Ellen's office, and Jo gave Paige a hug.

"You want me to finish up?" she asked.

"No, no. I don't want to be idle right now." Said Paige, rubbing her eyes. She wished he hadn't looked at her like that. She thought that yelling at him would make her feel better. But watching his hurt eyes as he left the room made her feel worse than she ever thought possible.

After an hour or so, Jo went up to their shared room. Bobby had followed Ellen and the two were in her trailer outside her bar.

Paige grabbed the trash and went outside to the dumpster, careful to walk under the over hang of the bar as it was still raining. As Paige made her way back, she saw John.

She knew he would be waiting for her. She wasn't angry anymore. She was tired; tired of the impossible predicament they were both in.

He reached out and grabbed her, pushing her against the wall of the bar. He kissed her. His kisses were desperate, like pleas for forgiveness. He held her against him like she was his only anchor out at sea.

For once, it was not lust that drove him to her, but need. Need to be forgiven, to be accepted. He clung to her embrace like a man confessing all his lifelong sins.

His hands were under her jacket and her shirt. He deftly undid her pants and gently stroked and teased her beneath them. He undid his zipper and pressed himself against her.

in a maneuver that would have been impossible if John had not been in peak physical condition, he lifted her off the ground. Pressed against the wall, Paige wrapped her legs around him.

They moved together against the wall of the dive country bar, clinging desperately to each other and the fleeting time they had left before the reality of their world claimed them.

* * *

Paige stood outside the bar and watched John drive away.

Jo was still awake as Paige walked into their shared room. The TV was on, but she looked up at Paige when she entered. Paige suddenly remembered that Jo's window faced outside to the alley where John had begged her forgiveness with his touch.

Jo cocked her head sadly, and Paige knew that Jo had heard them.

Paige didn't have the energy to spare feeling embarrassed. She sat on the bed and faced the TV. The bright colors and the fake studio laughter of the old sitcom sounded foreign. She was sure that she would never laugh again. She had no idea how she looked, probably not great, but she felt old. Old and powerless. She didn't say anything to Jo, she didn't think she could articulate herself right then.

Jo pulled the blanket off the bed and over Paige's shoulders. She wrapped her own arm over the blanket. The two girls sat, facing the TV, neither comprehending the words of the actors on the screen.

The stories and problems of the actors seemed so insignificant. They both knew that their lives would never remotely resemble those on screen. Both young, they still understood that their life was one that was lived alone. It was a life that revolved around death. Not just their own, but of those around them too.

* * *

"Hey, Paige. It's John. I guess I'm glad you didn't pick this up. I don't have a lot of time. I'm… well, I'm probably not going to be able to talk again for a really long time. I'm really shit at this… but I owe you a goodbye. I owe you a lot of things. I owe a lot of people a lot of things…

"I need to tell you something... before... well, anyways.

"I'm pretty sure that I love you. These past few weeks have made me feel things that I had forgotten. Things that I never thought I'd feel before.

"As you get older, you'll realize that there are lots of kinds of love in this world. When my wife… when Mary… I stopped feeling. I loved her so much, Paige. And it was nothing like how I feel for you. And for a long time I thought that if it wasn't exactly like it was then, then it isn't love. But that can't be true because if I don't love you, then why do I feel this way?

"And she died, and I never got to tell her everything she meant to me. It sounds silly, she probably already knew. But you didn't know. I love you.

"That's why I didn't tell you about the demon, Paige. He's big, and he's bad. You aren't ready. I know you're tough. I know you're smart. But… you can't go after him just yet. I've been hunting for twenty-two years and… well, never mind about that now.

"OK. I just wanted to tell you why I lied. And I wanted to tell you that I love you. Really. I don't know if you love me too… but, if you think you do… stop loving me after…

"I'm rambling. I just… I just thought of you. I seem to always be thinking of you. And now I have to go. So, just be careful. And don't get yourself killed. I mean that. "

There were a few seconds of silence, and then the line went dead.


	8. Chapter 8: Fifty Shades of John

**Hi, kids.**

**I know you are positively wetting yourself to read what happens next, so I'll make this brief. This is the first story where I've tried to blend my character into an already existing episode. I feel like it is a necessary evil, so I did so with as much grace as I could manage. I promise that it won't happen much more often. **

**That being said, the episode in question is Season 2 episode 2, "Everybody Loves a Clown."**

**Also, I'm aware that I skip a lot of intricacies of the episode, including quite a few clever zingers. Obviously, the episode is the standard, so me skipping your favorite lines is more a result of my not having the time and patience to go through the episode line by line than a desire to remove them altogether.**

**As always, read and review!**

* * *

Sam and Dean Winchester were riding in the beat up old van that Bobby had lent them. After burning their father, Sam had found a voicemail on John's phone from a woman named Ellen, saying that she could help him. The message was four months old, but it was their only lead.

Dean hated the old clunker. Driving it was like a slap in the face, reminding him that his beloved Impala was still wrecked in Bobby's lot.

That damn demon had one-upped them yet again. This time cutting his already heavily pruned family tree to just him and Sam.

Sam was listening to the voicemail for the umpteenth time. They had tracked the number and were heading to the middle of nowhere on a whim but hey, desperate times.

"Huh" said Sam, thumbing through his father's phone.

"What?" asked Dean. He made an impatient noise, as his brother didn't immediately respond.

"Well, I was just looking at Dad's call history. Dean, he called this same number a bunch of times in the past few days."

Dean was confused by his brother's tone. That sounded good. Multiple calls to the number meant that it was a solid lead. Why did Sam sound so hesitant?

"Dean, these calls were made while he was with us. Every other day for a week, he called this number."

"So? Maybe it was a solid lead."

"Maybe." Said Sam, sounding hesitant. "Whoa." Said Sam suddenly, still looking at the phone. He looked at Dean, an unreadable expression on his face.

"What, Sam? Use goddamn words, I can't read your mind."

"There is an outgoing call to another number." Sam said slowly, looking back at the phone. Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Dean, Dad made a call at 10 am on the day that he died. Forty minutes before…" Sam's voice trailed off.

Dean took a steadying breath.

First, they were going to visit the woman who left the voicemail, then they were going to track down whoever John had called minutes before he died. Dean had to kill this demon. It had taken his mother, his father, his entire life. And he would be damned if he had to follow his father's last order, whispered into his ear, moments before he died.

Dean glanced at his little brother out of the corner of his eye.

No, that was one order that he refused to follow.

* * *

"Sam? Dean?" repeated the older woman as she held a gun to Sam's head. "Winchester?"

"Mom? You know these guys?" asked the young petite blonde with a rifle trained on Dean.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys." she lowered her gun and broke into a grin. "Howdy, I'm Ellen."

"You sure these are them?" asked the girl.

"Yeah, that's them." Said a third woman's voice coming from the bathrooms. Dean's blood turned cold as he recognized Paige. She was holding a baseball bat relaxed at her side. She nodded at the blonde, the girl lowered her gun. "Long time, no see, boys."

* * *

Paige handed Dean ice wrapped in a towel that he placed against his nose. He gave her a cold stare.

"So," said Dean, turning away from Paige and focusing on Ellen. He didn't trust himself to remain civil if he directed his words at Paige. "We checked our Dad's voicemail, and you left him a message saying that you could help him. Help him with what?"

"Well," said Ellen, "the demon of course."

"What? Was there an article in Demon Hunter's Quarterly that I missed?"

"He also made a bunch of calls to here over the past few days," said Sam quickly, "Were those about the demon too? Is there a fresh lead?"

Jo, the young blonde, shuffled uncomfortably. Ellen, however, kept her cool eyes on Sam.

"No." she said evenly, "those were personal calls he made to check up on a mutual friend. John was like family once."

"How come he's never mentioned you? Or your "Dean shot an accusatory look at Paige, "mutual friend."

"You'd have to ask him that." Said Ellen. "Frankly, the last time we spoke, we didn't end on the best of terms, but we still care about him. Families have fights, they still stick together."

"So," said Dean, "How exactly can you help us out?"

"Don't do me any favors, " said Ellen, "If you don't want our help, fine. Don't let the door smack you on the ass on your way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if…"

Ellen suddenly comprehended. She cast a quick look at Paige. Paige looked shaken and pale, Dean guessed that Paige had already assumed the truth when she first saw them.

"I'm sorry," said Paige in a small voice. "He died, didn't he?"

Sam looked up at her, surprised by her tone. She seemed more upset than was appropriate, considering that they had only met her once for a brief period.

But John had called to check up on a mutual friend, and here stood Paige, looking disproportionately upset.

Dean had figured it out it before Sam had.

He stood slowly and walked to the old van. Sam and the three women watched in surprise. Dean grabbed his Dad's phone from the glove compartment. Walking back into the bar, looking directly at Paige, he dialed the number from the last call his father made.

Her pocket buzzed.

Everyone's eyes turned to Paige.

She looked down guiltily as she pulled the phone from her pocket. With a quick press of a button, she ended the call. Dean looked at her with cold, hard fury in his eyes.

This girl was no good. She had lied to, manipulated and humiliated Dean. Now she had manipulated his Dad too. The last thoughts his father had included her.

Sam read his brother's face and began before Dean could say something rash.

"Our Dad made a call to this number," he said to Paige, pointing to the phone in her hand. "Minutes before he died. We need to know what he said."

"I…" Paige began, "I understand, but it wasn't about the demon. It won't help you fight it or track it."

Dean looked as though he didn't believe her. Why should he? The more he found out about this girl, the more he was sure that everything she said was a lie. Sam, to his dismay, looked sympathetic. She had played off that sympathy the first time she had crossed their path too.

"I swear," said Paige, "I have as much reason to want that dick of a demon dead as you do, but he didn't tell me anything to help fight it."

Dean snorted.

Sam continued, ignoring his brother.

"Maybe he said something that was a clue that you didn't notice?" he said gently, walking slowly towards Paige like a man approaching a spooked horse. "He could be kind of cryptic. Or maybe he let something slip. We just want to know what our father was thinking right before he died."

Paige swallowed the lump in her throat. Jo and Ellen looked ready to interject on her behalf, Paige held her hand up to stop them.

"You won't like it," she warned.

"I'll take the risk," said Sam.

"He left a voicemail." explained Paige, extending her phone to Sam. "I saved it. It doesn't tell you anything about the demon though."

Sam took the phone and held it to his ear. Paige's eyes were glassy as she crossed her arms defensively in front of her. Sam took a quick breath of air as he heard his father's voice. His eyes shot onto Paige as the message continued. His face displayed a million emotions; surprise, hurt, and just a smidgen of disgust. He continued to hold the phone to his ear, even after the call had ended.

Dean silently held his hand out to Sam for the phone. Sam knew that he was not going to take this well. He looked apologetically at Paige as he handed the phone to his brother.

As the message ended, Dean's expression was much less complicated than his brother's had been.

Dean wanted to murder Paige. His hands shook as he tossed the phone, none too gently, at back to her.

"I'm sorry," he said, "Ellen, excuse me but I need some air." He walked out the door quickly, not waiting for a response. Sam cast an apologetic look at Ellen and Jo, and then raced out after Dean.

Sam, like his brother, couldn't look Paige in the eyes.

"Hey, Dean," Sam called, jogging to catch him. Dean was heading nowhere in particular, he just had to move. As long as his feet were moving, he wouldn't think about wrapping his hands around that little bitch's neck.

"Dean," Sam tried again. He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. Dean shook Sam's hand off, but turned around to face him. He rubbed his hands over his face as he tried to compose himself.

Of course, all he could think of was Paige grinding herself all over John and taking advantage of him. He thought of her cruelly leading John to believe he loved her, laughing to herself at his foolishness.

No way could she have loved him back. She had an ulterior motive for wrapping John around her finger. He refused to stand in that room with her and pretend that she shared their grief. His father only had one love of his life and that cheap whore wasn't it.

"So, what? This is a dead lead?" asked Sam, "Do you want to just go back to Bobby's and start from scratch?"

Dean took a deep breath. The demon was the main priority here. As much as he hated Paige, she wasn't going to get in the way of their revenge. Nothing mattered as much as killing this thing before he had to complete his father's last order.

"No." said Dean, taking a deep breath, "That message was from a long time ago before Dad even met…" he had to swallow hard before he could say her name, "Paige. We can see what they have to tell us. It can't hurt, right?"

Sam nodded.

"Dean, do you think we should talk about…"

"No" Dean said, cutting him off.

"Look," Sam struggled to find the words, "Mom's been dead for twenty some years. It would be naive to think that Dad hadn't… you know… with someone."

Dean shuddered. He hadn't once thought about his father's sexual needs in his whole life, he wasn't about to start now. No, Dean had never assumed that his Dad was celibate, but to actually claim to love a woman, to have a relationship with one, Dean didn't like to think about the implications of that.

If their Dad had uprooted their life to chase down the demon that had killed their mother, the love of his fucking life, then what did it mean when he went and fell in love with someone else?

Was their whole life a waste?

"It's not about the…" Nope, Dean couldn't bring himself to say it," it's about _her_. I don't like her, Sammy. She manipulates and she lies. She must have pulled one over on Dad too. Plus, how old is she? Younger than you? You really think that she could have loved him like Mom did?"

Sam raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"You really think that Dad could have gotten hoodwinked by some girl?" asked Sam, guessing that this was not the root of Dean's problem with Paige. "You were acting weird towards her even before we found out about her and Dad. Why do you mistrust her so much?"

Dean took a deep breath. He needed to tell Sam, even though it was one of the most humiliating memories of his life.

"We hooked up." Said Dean, "In the motel room, when you and Dad went to drop the gorgon off at Nancy's. Now, you tell me what kind of girl hooks up with a guy, then goes and screws his Dad?"

Sam processed the information, shuddered at the gross complexity, then shrugged.

"I mean, it isn't… ideal. " he said with a displeased look, "but what did Dad have that she wanted? I mean, he didn't have money or anything."

Dean was stumped on that one.

"Well, she caught the gorgon," Dean tried. "Maybe she really was a dealer and she just wanted someone to help her find demons to catch and trade."

Even to him, the argument sounded weak. If that had been her goal than the single stupidest thing she could possibly do would be to intimately link herself to a hunter. Many hunters saw little distinction between demons and the people who traded and dealt in demonic goods.

Dean shrugged back at his little brother.

No, he could see no reason to really dislike Paige besides the fact that she had humiliated him and ruined the pure memory of his father and mother's marriage.

All she did was make him question his entire life, but she as a person, wasn't terribly dangerous.

He didn't have to like her, but they needed help tracking this demon. Help that Ellen had offered. For whatever reason, Ellen trusted Paige, so if they wanted to work with Ellen, they would have to tolerate Paige as well.

With the memory of their father slightly rattled, the two went back into the bar, looking for help to finish his life's work.

* * *

When they entered the bar again, Paige was behind the counter, avoiding eye contact. They immediately decided that the best way to deal with the awkward situation would be to pretend that Paige wasn't there at all. Paige seemed completely ok with this course of events.

"You said you could help us?" asked Sam, turning to Ellen.

"We can't help you," said Ellen, "but Ash can."

"Who is Ash?" asked Dean.

"Ash!" Ellen called over her shoulder to the man passed out on the pool table.

"That's Ash?" asked Sam, incredulous.

"He's a genius," said Jo proudly.

* * *

Ash and the Winchesters were seated at the bar. Ash had the file-o-fax of John's research laid out in front of him.

Ash was amazed at John's intricate method of demon tracking. Not only did the man track omens, he tracked pressure systems, electric waves, astrological charts and atmospheric composition.

"Give me," Ash calculated using an intricate formula in his mind. "54 hours."

As he got up. He squinted at a piece of paper at the top of the pile.

"That's the coordinates of an air pressure system," Paige said, surprising both Sam and Dean. She hadn't spoken for an hour since they reentered the bar. She was looking over Ash's shoulder at the notes. "John alternates codes depending on the day and location he makes them. There are several other hunters who do the same. "

Ash looked at Paige like he had never seen her before.

"You can crack the codes?" he asked.

Paige nodded. Glancing cautiously at Sam and Dean as she did. Dean looked down at the bar. He didn't like the idea of John snuggled up to Paige, teaching her codes and complicated tracking systems.

Especially when he had taught him and Sam only the most rudimentary basics.

"Give me 51 hours," Ash corrected, turning to Paige as he collected the papers he said, "Doll, you're with me."

With that they both left the bar.

Dean quickly cast his mind around for something to distract himself. He was sick and tired of thinking about Paige.

"_I always seem to be thinking of you"_ his father had said to her.

He shook his head as if hoping to physically dislodge the thought from his mind. At that precise moment, the petite blonde, Jo, walked by.

Bingo.

Dean followed her to where she was working. He took notice of the way her slender hips swayed as she walked, her tiny tank top revealing the smallest amount of skin as she moved.

"How did your mom get into hunting?" Dean asked, taking a seat at the table.

"My Dad." Said Jo, "He was a hunter. He passed away."

"I'm sorry, "said Dean

"It was a long time ago," said Jo, "I was only a kid."

Dean nodded, he understood. His mother had died when he was four. He had less than a handful of memories of her and sometimes he wondered which were memories and which were dreams. Time didn't make the loss much less painful though.

"Well," said Dean, leaning forward and changing the subject, "I've got 51 hours to kill. How about you and I…"

He stopped himself. Why was he doing this? Was this just to fill the void of his grief? Was it to somehow purge Paige from his mind and body? This girl, Jo, was like him. He could see himself loving her.

He would never say so out loud, but Dean liked the idea of love.

He had no objections to meaningless one-night stands. Anonymous sex with waitresses, strippers and random college girls he came across on his hunts. But this girl, Jo, could be special.

She knew his loss, she understood his lifestyle and the girl could take care of herself.

Even though Paige had trotted into the picture and thrown a monkey wrench in Dean's belief in everlasting love, he wanted it to be true so badly. He didn't want Jo to be another one night stand.

"You know what?" He said, "Never mind. Wrong place, wrong time."

Jo raised her eyebrows.

"Dean, " said Sam from across the bar, "Come here and check this out."

* * *

When the Winchesters finally left to go do their hunt, Paige breathed a sigh of relief. Ash looked up at her from his laptop where he was he programming a tracker for John's charts.

Paige had smiled to herself when Ash told her what he was going to do with John's notes.

John had been an outstanding hunter, but the man abhorred technology.

He claimed it was too easy to track. Using the Internet and computers was like putting notes someplace that could potentially be accessed by anyone persistent and smart enough. He had always preferred to keep his knowledge close to his person. If someone wanted to steal them, they'd have to beat John Winchester one on one.

And John Winchester had liked those odds.

Paige's eyes filled with tears as she thought of him. He was dead. Finally and resolutely dead. Not out somewhere, hunting, where he might die. He would never show up in the bar again. He would never touch her again.

"You doing ok?" asked Ash, not looking up from his computer. His voice was not unkind.

They had holed themselves up in the storeroom. Ash had a case of beer open beside him and Paige was leaning against a barrel of bar nuts.

Paige had helped Ash crack the code in less than ten minutes. Once Ash cottoned on to John's predictable method of unpredictability, he had taken over. Paige leaned back and watched him work, taking a beer from the case and waiting until the Winchesters left. Ash didn't question it; they simply both sat in silence as he worked.

Paige shook her head, 'no.' She wasn't ok.

Paige had loved two men in her life. She had loved Abraham; the tiny little person that she never got to know. And Paige had loved John. She never knew a lot of things about him, but she knew which arm he shot with and she knew what codes he used when he tracked demons.

She knew that he had secretly hated whiskey.

She knew that it drove him crazy when she bit his lip and she knew that he had a big, boyish dimple when he smiled.

How could a single person with so many little intricacies simply cease to exist?

He had told her that he loved her. Did that make her feel better or worse?

Ash pulled his eyes away from the screen. He looked at her in an expression that was entirely Ash; detached, analytical and a little drunk. She could tell that he wanted to comfort her.

"It will probably get better," was his reassurance.

"Thank you, Ash," said Paige with a weak smile.


	9. Chapter 9: B is for Bogeyman

**Hi, loyal readers (all 5 of you.) Finals are really kicking my ass, so, sorry that I took so long between postings. **

**This chapter is a bit long, so I broke it into two sections. Basically, I wanted to get to know who Paige was out on a hunt by herself. After this, we'll see a lot more familiar characters from the series. I didn't mean to draw this hunt out, but I just felt that Paige had a lot of loose ends to tie up, so that took a lot of space. The next chapter will either come later tonight or possibly tomorrow afternoon and will be significantly shorter.**

**On a side note, I introduced another original character, David Zapata. I had meant for him to be a random victim/ helper like Torrey was in the chapter, "Gone with the Ghost," but as I wrote him, I really started to like him. Read and review what you think of him. He may make another guest appearance! **

**Now, if any of you are native spanish speakers, I apologize for my rudimentary language skills. I'm brushing up before I go abroad for the summer, so you all are stuck with the result. Enjoy!**

* * *

_The truck drove down the desolate expanse of highway. The only scenery outside the window were the wide and endless wheat fields, rippling in the wind like a great golden ocean. The sky was a dark and foreboding grey, a caution of a storm to come._

_Paige had her nose in a book and tried to pretend that she didn't notice the fact that they had travelled down this same expanse of road twice before. John was lost._

_Paige peeked up at him out of the corner of her eye; John glanced at her then turned his attention back to the road. She waited for him to say something, to admit that he didn't know where he was._

_They passed a small stand with a handwritten sign selling strawberries for the third time. Paige watched it pass and finally turned to John._

_"Is it strawberry season already?" she asked conversationally. John looked over at her suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. "I haven't had fresh strawberries in forever. Next time we pass, lets pull over and buy some."_

_John heaved a great sigh at being caught._

_"I figured out how to get back onto the highway," he said as the car approached a familiar intersection, yet again. He merged into the left lane. "I think this loops around and will take us back to the 10."_

_As they approached the strawberry stand for the fourth time, Paige reached over and pulled John's wallet from his back pocket, helping herself to his cash. John let her, without complaint. Pulling to the side of the road for her, he caught her arm as she started out the door._

_"I know where we are, I don't need any directions." He repeated firmly._

_Paige widened her eyes innocently and shook her head, as if it was the farthest thing from her mind. She slid out of the truck, stumbling a bit as she took the full brunt of the stormy wind._

_"Disculpe me!" she called out to the man sitting by the table of berries. She began jogging towards him, leaving John's earshot. "Cuanto cuestan?"_

_As the truck merged back onto the road, fat droplets began to crash onto the windshield. Paige opened her box of strawberries, twisting the tops off and tossing them out the window. As she put one into her mouth, she let out a small hum of pleasure._

_"You looking for attention?" asked John, watching her._

_When Paige looked up at him, she noted that his eyes were clouded with a familiar emotion. One that she had taken advantage of when they pulled over for the night before. John's eyes kept leaving the road and focusing on the way Paige's lips wrapped around the fruit._

_"Maybe." Said Paige, sweetly with a shrug._

_John reached over and slid his finger along her red stained lip. Paige's body tingled with the promise. When they stopped for the night, Paige would finally be able pull him into her as she had wanted to all say. She felt a flip in her lower stomach as John took his hand back and licked the taste of strawberry off of his thumb._

_"You looking for attention?" Paige asked with a smile._

_"Maybe," said John, grinning back at her._

_As they approached the intersection, John looked at her. He raised his eyebrows. Paige didn't admit that she had asked the man at the strawberry stand for directions, but pointed to the right. John nodded and turned down the road._

* * *

Paige scolded herself again for daydreaming.

She wondered if John had ever had problems like this.

John had never talked about it, because John never talked about anything that had to do with feelings or memories or anything besides the very basics of survival, but Paige couldn't keep her mind from wandering as she drove alone down the road.

Everyone talked about John's hunting as a way that he escaped his problems and feelings. They talked as if hunting was an opiate that John used to numb the pain of losing his wife, leaving his sons and just generally dealing with any and all problems.

That had sounded pretty damn good to Paige.

But as she hit the road with only her thoughts to keep her company, she couldn't imagine anything besides her problems. Eventually she ran out of things to think about. The endless road simply kept bringing up every moment she had shared with John, playing them over and over again.

And she felt a new stab in the stomach every time she remembered that he was dead. The sting was as fresh and harsh as it was the first time.

Maybe it was the only way that John could connect with Mary, through endless cycles of memory after memory for hours, days, on end. It hurt and it sucked, but it was better than nothing.

Paige wished she could ask him about it. But then, John had always been squeamish when it came to talking about how he felt. That was magnified tenfold when it came to talking to Paige about Mary.

Paige checked her cell phone on the seat next to her. No missed calls, no text messages. She had left the Harvelle Roadhouse less than twenty-four hours ago, of course no one had called her. She hadn't expected to miss Jo and Ellen this much this soon.

When she left, Ellen handed her a wad of cash, far more than she could have possibly earned. Jo shoved a velvet cloth into Paige's hand. As Paige unwrapped it, she felt tears well behind her eyes.

It was a knife. An iron knife that had belonged to William Anthony Harvelle. His name was engraved in the blade.

"Jo… I can't. I just… I can't." Paige started.

Jo's gaze was steady as she closed her hand over Paige's.

"Course you can, " Jo said firmly, "You're going to need it to kick some serious ass out there. Don't forget, I'm hunting vicariously through you. You're killing demonic bastards for two."

Paige let out a wet giggle, her eyes were swimming. Ellen was a bit more reserved, but she let Jo give Paige her husband's knife. Paige looked at her for confirmation and she nodded.

"That's damn important to us around here, " Ellen said, "So you make sure you bring it back now."

Paige bobbed her head furiously.

* * *

A gleaming red 1958 Cadillac pulled up outside of the Starr County Sheriff department. Both deputies looked at each other and then looked back out at the classic car, so out of place in the small, mostly poor, Texas border town.

A young woman in a suit exited the car. She tucked her notebook and a manilla folder under her arm and walked into the department. Glancing around and taking in its small size her eyes landed on the deputies behind the counter.

"Hello," she said in a cool tone, "I'm Valerie Lake. I'm a reporter for the El Paso Times." She lazily flashed her Associated Press Identification. She waited a beat for the deputies to respond. When they didn't, she continued. "I'm writing up on the disappearance of the little boy from here. "

"We already gave our statement, " said the sheriff, a white man with a potbelly and a receding hairline. He looked closer at Valerie Lake, squinting his eyes. "You look kinda young to be a reporter."

"You flatter me, " she said, though her tone implied very much the opposite. "I understand that you already gave a statement. I just want to ask you a couple of other questions."

The older sheriff sighed. He was tired of fielding all these reporters and their questions. Their small city rarely got any attention and now with the little boy disappearing, he was dealing with people like this Valerie Lake all day. As if asking the same three questions over and over again would somehow crack the case in a way that he couldn't. She was young and ambitious, he got that, and he was hungry once too. But he was getting pretty damn sick of people assuming that it was idiocy that kept this case from being solved. There just wasn't any evidence. He cocked his head to the deputy beside him.

The rookie was young and not unattractive. He had warm cinnamon skin and dark features. His eyes were colder, though, than the sheriff's.

"Deputy Zapata can help you." He said, palming off the reporter on his second in command. Well, the boy was young. He might at least enjoy the view. Even if the view in question was snappy and condescending.

With that, the elder sheriff tipped his hat to her and walked back to his office, wishing he could help her crack the story.

That would mean that he had the evidence to put the bastard away and he wouldn't have to think about that poor little boy who disappeared.

* * *

Paige followed the icy, young detective to his messy, tiny desk.

He sat down, turning on an old and bulky computer. He looked darkly back at Paige. She didn't bother to stop and ask him what the hell his problem was.

"So, this little boy, Tomas Estrada, disappeared from his room between the hours of eight pm when his parents put him to sleep and six am when his Father checked on him before work. There was no sign of forced entry, all the doors and windows were locked from the inside, is that correct?"

Deputy Zapata cocked his head in agreement as Paige read off the statement issued by the sheriff department. She continued.

"Tomas Estrada was four years old, too young to be a likely candidate for a run away, not to mention the fact that the house was still locked from the inside. No evidence in the house suggests foul play by the parents, correct?"

Deputy Zapata's mouth hardened into a grim line as he nodded his head. Paige closed the manila folder. She leaned foreword.

"Has anything like this ever happened before?" she asked him.

The young man paused before answering her question.

"No, if there was any case on file, obviously we would have followed up on that too."

Paige raised her eyebrow at him. There was something the detective wasn't telling her.

"What about cases off file?"

Deputy Zapata looked back at Paige with interest. No one had asked that question before. He leaned forward too, conspiratorially. He glanced to make sure that the sheriff was tucked away in his office.

"There has been another disappearance in the past month. " he said.

"Why hasn't anyone heard of this before?" asked Paige in a hushed whisper.

"Because it wasn't reported." Deputy Zapata replied simply.

* * *

Paige sat in the deputy's car as they tumbled down an unmarked and poorly maintained dirt road. He drove in his personal car, a 1993 Mazda. The air conditioning didn't work and the radio was stuck on a cheesy mariachi station.

They left behind them an enormous cloud of dust.

They pulled up to a cluster of trailers. The small trailer community was eerily quiet as Paige stepped from the car. Paige saw faces peer out of the Plexiglas windows. As Deputy Zapata stepped out and looked around, one by one, people came out of their trailers towards him. The first were the children, breaking from their mothers' hold they ran towards him in a chaos of bare feet and excited Spanish. Deputy Zapata smiled at them all, apologizing for not bringing more presents. The children looked expectantly at Paige, as if she would surely produce candy and toys from her pockets.

Their parents, however, remained wary of the new visitor. A small crowd began to gather around the car. Muttering amongst themselves. Deputy Zapata addressed them.

"Se trata de un periodista. Ella quiere que la ayude con los ninos desaparecidos. Yo confiro en ella."

_This is a journalist. She wants to help you with the missing children. I trust her._

No one approached, but Deputy Zapata walked forward with Paige, towards a woman wearing a blue dress. Clutching her skirt was the only child who did not run forward to greet Deputy Zapata when they recognized him. The girl was about five or six and had her long dark hair braided into two neat plaits.

"Dolores, ella tiene que hacer algunas preguntas sobre la noche de su hija otra desaparecidos. Voy a estar aqui todo el tiempo."

The woman, Dolores, nodded and gestured back to the trailer she emerged from. When they entered, Paige wedged herself into the tiny table that fit into the trailer. She looked at Deputy Zapata expectantly, waiting for him to leave so she could talk to Dolores alone. Deputy Zapata smiled wryly at her.

"She doesn't speak English." He explained.

"Esta bien," said Paige coolly, turning to a surprised looking Dolores. "que pueda."

* * *

Dolores told them about the night that she put both of her daughters, twins, to bed. She teared up as she remembered that they had argued. One daughter, Celia, had insisted on staying up to watch TV. Dolores had insisted that she go to bed. The girl had thrown a tantrum and said that she hated her mother.

When Dolores had put both girls to sleep on the roll away sofa, she had gone to the other side of the trailer and closed the curtain separating her sleeping area. At around two or three in the morning, the other daughter, Sonia, had screamed. When Dolores threw open the curtain, Celia was missing.

Sonia had been weeping and shaking in shock. She couldn't tell anyone what she had seen. Dolores said that she was muttering something about a nightmare she was having.

As they were speaking, Sonia herself was sitting in front of the TV. Paige thanked Dolores and walked over to the little girl, squatting to her level. She took a deep breath; she had never been great with kids. Sure, she'd had one, but she had never had to talk to him.

"Hola," she started weakly. Sonia turned her attention from the TV and focused on Paige. Paige noted how old her eyes looked. She had seen it, whatever it was. "Me llamo Valerie. Me puedes decir lo que vio?"

_Can you tell me what you saw?_

Paige made no attempt to pretend that Sonia wouldn't know what she was talking about. Sonia had been listening to the conversation the whole time. Deputy Zapata shifted impatiently behind her. Clearly, he had tried the same tactic and gotten nowhere. Everyone had asked what Sonia had seen, but no one had ever believed her.

Paige shot a look over her shoulder at Deputy Zapata. He rolled his eyes as he took his cue to walk out of the trailer with Dolores. Paige leaned over and turned off the TV.

"Se que lo ves. Sea lo que sea, te creo." She confided in the little girl now that they were alone.

_I know you saw it. Whatever it is, I believe you._

Sonia continued to stare blankly at her.

Paige slid a bracelet from her wrist. A tiny silver chain with a single cross on it. She felt a twinge of regret as she remembered that John had given it to her the night he had made love to her against the Roadhouse wall. Their last night together.

They had stood awkwardly after they had both finished, unsure of how to say goodbye. John had pulled the tiny bracelet from his coat pocket. Pure silver, he told her, and it was a religious icon. If a demon got to close, she should be able to hit it with the bracelet and repel it at least for a few seconds.

Paige shook the memory from her mind. This little girl needed it more than she did.

She reached forward and clasped the bracelet on Sonia's wrist.

"Esto le protege."

_This will protect you._

Paige got up and left the trailer.

As she and Deputy Zapata climbed into his car, Sonia came running out. Everyone watched in surprise as she took a handful of Paige's pant leg and tugged, gesturing for Paige to lower to her level. When she did, Sonia whispered into her ear,

"Fue el Cucuy."

_It was the Bogeyman._

* * *

Paige resisted the temptation to throw her laptop against the wall of the motel. She reminded herself that she was a vegetarian.

If she acted out her impulse, she might accidentally squash one of the several cockroaches that were wandering around the room, seemingly unbothered by her presence.

The Internet in the motel was dial up. _Dial up. _

She wouldn't be able to do anything working like this. She put her face in her hands as she tried to compose her frustration.

She couldn't.

Paige grabbed her bag and walked out of the motel room, desperate to move. Bogeyman, Sonia had told her. And Paige was probably the first person to believe that she saw what she saw.

Of course, now Paige was faced with a thousand other questions. Why was this Bogeyman targeting small Hispanic children? What kind of bogeyman was it? How could she kill it?

All questions that could be answered with a few good hours worth of research. Assuming, of course, that Paige could get any sort of Internet access before dawn.

As she wandered around the tiny town, she saw the only place open was a bar. Packed, of course. Paige suddenly wondered what night of the week it was. She was forgetting which days were which.

What had caught her eye was the blinking neon sign.

"Free Wi-Fi"

* * *

Paige took a seat at a table in the back, trying to look inconspicuous. It was harder than it sounded.

Paige was an outsider in a small town, sitting alone and doing research. In a bar.

She drew a fair amount of attention. As she glanced around the room, she recognized a man standing with his friends by the pool table. His friends were laughing at some joke that he had clearly missed. As everyone burst out in laughter, he remained grave, looking into his beer glass. He was surrounded by people, and yet he seemed very much alone.

It was a not unattractive Deputy Zapata off duty and out of uniform. He got up when he recognized her.

"Ms. Lake." Said Deputy Zapata, standing at her table. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"You shouldn't be." Said Paige, looking at him over her computer. "This is the only place in town with Internet access."

Without asking her permission, Deputy Zapata at in the seat opposite her at the table. He waited expectantly to see if Paige was going to comment on his drinking alone. She didn't. He had a tough job, just like her. She wasn't about to judge his coping methods; God knew that she didn't have any.

Deputy Zapata lowered his voice unnecessarily; everyone was so preoccupied with their own business that hardly anyone was even aware of the two of them there.

"What did Sonia tell you?" he asked.

"She told me that the Bogeyman came and took her sister." Paige said without a trace of irony.

Deputy Zapata smiled into his beer.

"Yeah, she told me the same thing," the smile turned to a grimace. "The poor girl. So much shock, you know?"

Paige didn't reply. Deputy Zapata had been so icy when he first met her. Winning Sonia's trust had apparently won his too. Paige still wasn't sure how much she trusted him.

"How do you know those people?" asked Paige, "They all have so much confidence in you."

His posture became guarded once more. As he straightened his back, Paige could see him as a deputy again.

He leaned forward and put a finger on the table to emphasize his point.

"That little road trip was off the record." He said, leaning forward, his voice venomous, "If you write about those people in your paper, I will do everything in my power to make your life a living hell."

Paige softened at his protectiveness.

"You misunderstand me, " she explained, her tone more gentle "I'm not going to rat anyone out. My concern is the disappearances, same as yours. It seems clear that there is a pattern. Whatever it is targets these kids. Kids it doesn't think will be noticed by the general public."

"Whoever," Deputy Zapata corrected, "And I agree with you."

He took a long drink of his beer, finishing it off. He gestured to the waitress. The slender red head only had eyes for Deputy Zapata as she approached the table.

"David, another one?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.

Deputy Zapata nodded and looked over at Paige.

"Walker, neat." Said Paige, not taking her eyes off Deputy Zapata. He raised his eyebrows at her order, but said nothing. The waitress left to get their drinks.

"Do any of those people have visas?" asked Paige.

Deputy Zapata sighed and shrugged.

"Some of them," he said, "Most of them, no."

Paige nodded; it explained why people were reluctant to report anything. They were afraid to have the police and authorities sniffing around, asking too many questions.

"How did you find out about Celia?" asked Paige.

"Dolores. She was scared to come in, but her daughter just disappeared. She didn't have anywhere to go." He put his face in his hands, "She begged me to not make an official case out of it. She didn't want it on any records. So I kept it a secret. Worked on it by myself. If I… if I had reported it, then maybe we would have caught the guy… Tomas would still be at home."

The waitress returned to their table, giving Paige a dirty look for putting Deputy Zapata in such a mood. Paige, thanked her for the whiskey, but as she glanced at the bar, she saw a man watching her.

He was older, about Bobby's age, if she had to guess. He was black, though his hair was sprinkled with grey.

He was watching her out of the corner of his eye.

John had taught her the signs of a hunter stalking his prey. He was facing forward, but his head didn't move. He didn't fidget or adjust his weight like a normal person alone at a bar would do. His attention was focused on their table. Sensing that Paige had seen him, the man threw some cash on the bar and got up to leave. Paige stood to follow him. He had been watching her becuse he must have sensed that she was a hunter. There were far more attractive and drunk girls in the bar that night, easier sexual prey, if that had been the man's goal.

Deputy Zapata snatched her wrist, pulling her back to the table.

"I don't mean to alarm you, " he muttered, "but that man at the bar was watching us. "

He had seen the tell tale signs too. Paige was mildly impressed. The way John bemoaned the bureaucratic nuances of small town law enforcement; Paige was under the impression that the lot of them was overweight, bored and obsessed with out of state plates.

"I had noticed, thanks." Paige said.

He released her and looked at her, perplexed.

"You know that guy?" he asked skeptically.

"Nope." Said Paige, standing again.

"I can't, in good conscience, let you go alone." He said. "That guy has a gun."

Paige had seen the lump in t he man's coat as well.

"It's legal, here in Texas." Deputy Zapata continued. "I can't kick him out or arrest him or anything, but I also don't want you to wander off alone. He hasn't stopped staring since we got our drinks."

Paige hadn't thought of it like that. Their drinks sat untouched on the table.

Something was up. Deputy Zapata had noticed it too.

"I need to know why he's staring," said Paige.

"No you don't, " said Deputy Zapata sharply, "You need to let me give you a ride to where you're staying. No way are you walking around alone tonight."

The man turned down the narrow hallway to the bathrooms and the emergency exit.

Paige got up and followed him, focusing on the weight of the gun strapped to her ankle for confidence. Deputy Zapata followed behind her, his own hand near his gun holster.

God bless Texas.

The door to the alleyway was just slamming shut. Deputy Zapata stepped in front of Paige and blocked the door, listening intently for sounds on the other side. Paige took the opportunity to bend down and pull her own gun from her ankle. Deputy Zapata nodded approvingly; unsurprised by the fact that Paige was armed.

Suddenly, there was a scream on the other side of the door. Deputy Zapata thrust the door open and pulled his weapon, aiming the black man who had his own shotgun aimed at the red headed waitress.

"Please don't hurt me, " she sobbed, "take my money. Just, don't hurt me, please." Her eyes found Deputy Zapata, "Please, David, help me."

Deputy Zapata took a step forward, but Paige grabbed the back of his coat. That wasn't a waitress. That wasn't even a human. As Paige looked at the ground, she saw a demon's trap outlined in paint.

Deputy Zapata shook off Paige's grip and aimed his gun back at the man, the hunter. The hunter sighed and put his weapon on the ground, holding his hands above his head, seeming more annoyed than anxious. Deputy Zapata stepped forward to grab the waitress, almost stepping on the trap that the hunter had set.

Paige held him back once again. He turned and looked at her.

"Let her walk back in herself," Paige said.

Deputy Zapata continued to look confused.

"Let her cross that line, by herself." Paige repeated, looking pointedly down at the markings on the asphalt. Seeing their intricacies, Deputy Zapata stepped back.

"You're in with him?" he asked incredulously. He turned his gun so that it was pointed it at her.

Paige had been through a lot with her training with John and Lang, but she had never before looked down the barrel of a gun. She decided on the spot that it was not her favorite thing in the world.

Paige placed her own gun on the ground and held her hands up where Deputy Zapata could see them. He gestured with his gun for Paige to stand by the strange hunter. The man gave her a wary smile as she stood next to him.

Deputy Zapata looked stumped as to what he was going to do with them now. He glanced back at the waitress, noting that she hadn't moved.

"Please, David, " she said, shaking slightly, "I'm so scared, please take me inside. You owe me that much."

Deputy Zapata hesitated, looking at the waitress as if seeing her for the first time. Paige took this as her cue. She started chanting an exorcism spell. The waitress writhed and shook as the words spilled out of Paige's mouth. With a final scream, the demon left her body, snaking its black smoke body into the night sky.

The waitress collapsed, pale and clammy.

Deputy Zapata had watched the ordeal in horror and was clearly still terrified that the waitress had remnants of the demon inside her.

"It's gone," Paige offered, still holding her hands above her head. Everything that Deputy Zapata had believed had just come crashing down around his ears. Paige wasn't about to set him off by moving too quickly. He had been highly perceptive up until that point, Paige didn't doubt that his shot would be right on the mark too. "You can go check her."

'Or whatever is left of her.' Paige thought to herself.

Deputy Zapata approached the waitress slowly. He bent down to touch her skin. He dropped his head and took a shuddering breath. The demon had ridden the girl too hard. She was dead.

Deputy Zapata put his gun on the ground and put his head in his hands, trying to process everything he had just seen. Paige lowered her arms and was startled by the older hunter nudging her towards the clearly distraught Deputy Zapata. He looked at her in a way that said, 'He's your friend, go comfort him.'

Emotional reciprocity had never been something in Paige's repertoire. She walked forward to Deputy Zapata, crouching down next to him. She placed her hand on his shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. He didn't flinch from her touch.

"It was a demon." Paige explained. "Demon's are real. They can get into the host and take over their bodies, make them act in ways that they wouldn't as a person. People like me hunt them. We try to save as many people as possible, but sometimes it's too late." Paige looked back down at the waitress.

"Her eyes," whispered Deputy Zapata. Her eyes had turned black as the pits of Hell during the exorcism.

"It's usually how we can tell. We also use holy water, and demon traps to fight and contain them."

A light bulb went off in Deputy Zapata's head.

"That's why you're here. You think this demon is what's been hurting these kids." He turned to her, his eyes hopeful, "You just stopped it. We're safe now."

Paige took a great sigh.

"Yes and no." she said, "Yes, it is something _like _what we just exorcised, but I personally believe that whatever it was that was hunting those kids is still out there. This was just a run of the mill demon. Sometimes crony demons like these gather around bigger ones."

"How did you know?" asked Deputy Zapata. "How did you know that Rachel was a demon?"

Paige couldn't answer that one. She looked over her shoulder to the other hunter. The older man shrugged.

"Gut instinct." He said, "And she flinched when I touched her."

He held up his hand, showing a silver ring.

"Silver works too, " Paige supplied. "Whenever silver touches a demon, it burns them."

Deputy Zapata looked overwhelmed, but seemed to be taking it as well as could be expected.

As he sat quietly and processed the information, Paige turned to the older hunter. They sized each other up.

Paige reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a flask of holy water. The older hunter mirrored her movement, producing one of his own. Paige opened the flask and took a sip, proving that it wasn't poison. The other hunter the did the same with his own. They each tossed their flasks to each other, then took a sip from the others flask. Finally, they passed the flasks back to their original owners, each shaking theirs to be sure that the other drank from it.

Satisfied that neither was a demon, the two relaxed and approached each other. The older hunter held out his hand.

"Rufus Turner." He offered.

"Paige Garcia." Paige returned.

The name meant something to Rufus.

"I've heard of you," said Rufus, turning his head and breaking into a smile, "You're John Winchester's girl."

Paige took a second to shake off the fact that it sounded like he had called her John's daughter.

Once she did, she decided that she liked that he called her John's girl. John Winchester had trained her. John Winchester had trusted her. John Winchester had loved her. She liked being identified as part of his legacy.

His name sounded familiar too, though Paige couldn't quite place it.

"You friends with Bobby Singer?" asked Paige, assuming that everyone knew him.

Rufus smiled sadly.

"We used to be real close." He said. He didn't seem eager to dwell on the subject. "I like that you're a little paranoid. The holy water trick, that's quirky, even among hunters."

"You hunting the thing that took that little boy?" asked Paige.

Rufus nodded.

"Did you know about the other little girl who went missing?" asked Paige. When Rufus didn't reply, she continued, "Disappeared in the same way from a migrant worker community. Her sister saw what happened. She said she saw the Bogeyman."

"Which one?"

"There's more than one?" asked Deputy Zapata. He had pulled himself together quite marvelously, Paige thought. He stood next to them, his hands on his hips. "How is there more than one Bogeyman?"

"A lot of cultures have this idea of monsters that take away unruly kids." Paige answered, "Italy, Romania, Mexico. All have myths about monsters who take bad kids away." Paige turned back to Rufus, "I'm pretty sure it is El Cucuy. The location makes sense. "

Rufus nodded.

"What happens to the kids?" asked Deputy Zapata. "Once they get taken? Do they get eaten, or something?"

"Worse, " said Rufus, "They get turned into Bogeymen themselves."

* * *

"What makes you think it will strike here again?" asked Rufus.

"I think it chooses to target these kids because they draw less attention. I mean, you had never even heard of Celia." Paige said, "I think Tomas was a fluke."

The three were sitting in Rufus' van, parked in the trailer community in the desert. Paige was impressed with the security technology that Rufus utilized.

There were video cameras on all sides of the van, and a microphone that could catch the most minute noises of the families inside their homes. On the dashboard were a GPS and an EP reader.

Deputy Zapata and Paige were listening to the microphones, eavesdropping on all the homes. They were listening for arguments between children and parents, the targets of El Cucuy. Since Paige and Deputy Zapata's Spanish was better than Rufus,' they were the most obvious choice.

Rufus had prepared special bullets filled with a liquid that would kill it. He didn't trust Paige enough to tell her what he was putting in, but she had read up on the demon herself. The only ingredients that would kill the demon were ashes, the hair of a dead child and a few drops of blood and holy water for good measure. The demon needed to have this injected into his blood stream. Rufus filled a bullet case with it the way that they filled bullet casings with salt. He planned on shooting it, and that plan worked for Paige.

Eventually, all the sounds in the community grew quiet. Rufus left the van, going outside to do a physical recon of the area. He practically laughed in Paige's face when she offered to go with him.

Paige sat back against the wall of the van, thinking that the night was a bust.

Without any children misbehaving, the demon would stay wherever he was for the night.

Deputy Zapata sat back too.

"How are you holding up?" asked Paige.

"Ok, I guess." He said, sounding skeptical. He turned to her, "how did you take it when you first found out? About demons and stuff?"

"I was in shock for the first couple of weeks. I didn't have any reason to stick around where I was, so I went with some people who had helped me. Decided to keep killing demons until the day when one of them killed me first."

"That seems extreme." said Deputy Zapata.

"Well, when the demon came… it took my son. My parents. This group of hunters, they were the only reason I'm still alive today. They offered to take me in. I had nothing left where I was. Fighting demons gave me control over my life again. At least to a certain extent."

"I'm so sorry." Said Deputy Zapata, looking at her sadly.

"Tragic life stories sort of come with the territory, " said Paige with a weak smile, "Sorry that we couldn't save your girlfriend."

Deputy Zapata took a deep breath.

"Not my girlfriend." He said, "I mean, we had a one night stand a few months ago. She wanted to get serious. I didn't."

Realization suddenly dawned on him.

"Was she possessed by the demon the whole time?" he made a sick grimace at the idea of sex with a spawn of hell.

"Well, it usually takes demons a while to burn through a host that thoroughly," said Paige, choosing her words carefully. "Sometimes longer than a year."

Deputy Zapata blanched.

"As fascinating as your sex lives are," came Rufus' voice from the intercom at the front of the van, making Deputy Zapata jump" Can you please tell me if there is anything going on?"

"It's been quiet for a about twenty minutes now," said Paige into the intercom, "I think this recon was a dud."

No sooner had the words left her mouth when she suddenly heard a scratching sound from her headphones. Something in one of the trailers was moving, scraping as it did so. It sounded too large to be a pet…

"Wait, Rufus, head's up-" Paige started.

That was when they heard the blood-curdling scream.


	10. Chapter 10: B is for Bogeyman II

**So, remember when I said that today's chapter would be shorter? Well, I'm a sadistic, lying bastard. You're welcome. **

* * *

Paige and Deputy Zapata ran to the center of the community, trying to find the source of the noise. They met Rufus, with his gun drawn.

Deputy Zapata started forward. Paige followed with Rufus bringing up the rear. Deputy Zapata has his game face on.

Paige stopped and held her hand up to cue the others. She heard a soft sniffling and crying. Paige looked into the window of the trailer closest to her and didn't see anything. Just as they were about to move on, Paige heard the noise again.

Hesitantly, she lowered herself to the ground and looked under the trailer.

A terrified Sonia looked back out at her.

Paige held out her hand and Sonia took it. As Paige pulled her out, she noted that the silver bracelet was hot to the touch.

"Lo volveria a ver?" asked Paige.

_Did you see it again?_

Sonia nodded and held her face into Paige's stomach, as if closing her eyes would make the monster go away.

"ojos rojos" whispered Sonia.

_Red Eyes_

"She saw it," said Paige to the two men, "She said it had red eyes."

"That's impossible." Said Rufus, shaking his head, "I walked past here not five minutes before she screamed."

Sonia's eyes suddenly fell into the shadows between two trailers. She started pulling on Paige's hand, pointing into the darkness. Both Deputy Zapata and Rufus pulled their weapons. Rufus, the closest one, slowly began to approach the shadows, his gun raised. As he reached the juncture, he paused for a beat.

"Nothing's here." He called back to them.

With that, something pulled Rufus to the ground, casting his gun away from him. As Rufus struggled with the unseen monster, Paige picked Sonia up off the ground.

"Jesus, it's got me, " called Rufus, grunting as the demon continued to attack him. "Don't stand there like idiots, take the girl and run." Paige and Deputy Zapata sprinted off to the outskirts of the trailer park, back to Rufus' van.

"What." Panted Deputy Zapata, "The. Fuck."

Paige was winded as well. Sonia was too old to be carried , and especially not with a shotgun. Sonia whimpered and started scratching her bracelet off her wrist.

"We can't see it." Paige said suddenly. "El Cucuy, we, as adults can't see it."

Deputy Zapata considered that, then nodded.

"Sonia can." Paige realized, "It tried to take her, but she must have hit it with this." She reached out and touched the cross on Sonia's wrist. "The demon must have dropped her. That's why she screamed, that's why she was outside. It was trying to take her to wherever it takes the kids."

Deputy Zapata nodded again. Paige saw that he did so with a pained expression. Then she noted the blood spreading along his pantleg.

Paige sat up and moved to his feet where she would see the extent of the wound. Deputy Zapata let out a fast breath of air as Paige looked at the cut. It was too dark to see. Paige slipped off her flannel shirt and started wrapping it around his leg.

"Forget me." Deputy Zapata said, pushing Paige away from his leg. "That guy, Rufus. We need to go back for him. "

He had a point.

Paige climbed into the van. Sonia and Deputy Zapata sat in the back. Paige glanced at him in the rearview mirror. The blood was spreading through the shirt she had used to apply pressure to his leg. He would need stitches at the very least. Sonia sat next to him. He whispered something to her that Paige couldn't catch. Sonia reached between them and grabbed his hand.

The roar of the van's engine as it came to life was a comfort. Before Paige could put the van in drive, however, Rufus came jogging into the headlights. Besides a few cuts and bruises, he looked alright.

Paige got out of the car and approached him.

"You look good." She said, suspiciously. "Prove you aren't possessed. This thing can and will possess people. "

"You first." Was his reply.

Paige pulled out the anti-possession hex bag from her pocket. Rufus nodded and pulled down the collar of his shirt. Paige saw the protection symbol tattooed above his heart. She nodded approvingly.

Rufus climbed back into passenger's side of the truck.

"They're invisible to us." He said.

"Yeah," said Paige, "but not to Sonia. Kids can still see them. How'd you get out scot-free? Were you able to shoot it?"

Rufus shook his head.

"No, the thing was invisible. What exactly was I supposed to shoot?" He heaved a great sigh. "It disappeared when you guys took the girl. I don't think it's as strong when it is out of a host. It didn't want to try and take the three of us down."

"What now?" asked Paige.

"We lure the thing to us and we shoot it. " Rufus said simply, "We know what it's after. We know how to kill it."

"No," said Deputy Zapata from the back. "The only thing we have to lure it to us is Sonia. We are not using her as bait."

"What's you solution then?" retorted Rufus, "That demon has her marked. If we leave her alone it is just going to come right out and take her anyways."

"No," repeated Deputy Zapata more firmly.

"It's ok." Said Sonia in a voice far beyond her years in perfect English. "I want to save my sister."

The three stared at her.

"You don't understand the consequences." Deputy Zapata explained. "Sonia, you could get hurt. You could die."

"I want to save my sister." Sonia replied firmly.

"We'll save her." Assured Rufus, turning back to face Sonia. "We'll get the monster and we'll get your sister back."

* * *

"I hate this plan." Deputy Zapata repeated.

"I hate that you insisted on coming. You're obviously injured." Paige retorted at him.

They had driven up to an abandoned warehouse. They wanted to be far away from anyplace public when they lured the demon in to fight. Rufus and Sonia had sat in the largest and best lit room. Rufus was laying down precautions.

Paige had gotten up to check the perimeter of the warehouse. Deputy Zapata had stood as well, insisting that his leg was fine. He moved slower than Paige, and with a discernable limp, but he didn't complain and his gun rested steadily in his hand.

The old warehouse light flickered.

Deputy Zapata and Paige spared a second to confirm with a look what they had just seen. As they ran towards the room, they heard Rufus' gun go off. Sonia let out a shriek.

Rufus lay at the very corner of the demon trap, blood pooling from his temple. His gun lay to the side. Sonia was backing herself against the wall, her eyes frozen on her unseen assailant.

Paige wanted to shoot it, but it was too close to Sonia. She couldn't risk it. Instead, she grabbed Jo's knife from its sheath at her belt and slashed into the air in front of the little girl. Her blade made contact with something, and her hand was flushed in warm red blood.

She could see it's blood when it left the body.

She followed the trail of blood droplets with her eyes. She lifted her gun and fired one of the two bullets Rufus had given her.

Paige looked back at Sonia, but Sonia shook her head. It wasn't there anymore. Paige sighed, but stood and grabbed Sonia's wrist leading her to the demon protected van.

Deputy Zapata had been right. It was a reckless plan. Paige and Rufus had been so confidant that they could get it, that luring it to them seemed like a logical idea. Paige wished so badly that she could just go back in time a few minutes and talk Rufus out of his scheme.

"He's breathing." Called Deputy Zapata as he kneeled by Rufus' side.

'Thank God for that,' thought Paige. Suddenly Sonia stopped and let out a shrill scream. She was looking at Deputy Zapata with horror.

Paige didn't have to be a child to see El Cucuy this time.

As Deputy Zapata rounded on them, his eyes glowing red. Paige glanced down at the ground. The protection hoax bag that she had given him had fallen out of his pocket as he checked on Rufus. The demon took the opportunity to enter him, strong enough now to take on the only hunter left standing.

As Paige looked back up at Deputy Zapata he swung his fist through the air.

As his fist made contact, the gun was knocked out of her hands. She swung a punch right back at him. He blocked it easily, then jabbed an elbow into her stomach.

She cursed his police training, he was clearly a skilled fighter. The demon was pulling the puppet strings, but the reflexes and muscle memory were entirely Deputy Zapata's. Paige would be impressed if she wasn't in so much pain.

Clearly unable to physically overpower the deputy who had four inches and about thirty pounds on her, Paige went for the knees. As she kicked his legs out from under him, Deputy Zapata hit the ground.

Paige turned to Sonia, cowering in the corner.

"Sonia! Salt!" Paige was able to yell before Deputy Zapata leapt back up and grabbed her from behind.

Sonia ran to where Rufus lay and pulled the box of salt from his pocket, drawing a line around the both of them.

El Cucuy was unhappy with this turn of events and took it out on Paige as he threw her to the ground. Paige tried to stand, but Deputy Zapata held her down with his own weight, his red eyes flashing.

Paige suddenly felt her saving grace.

In his rush, Deputy Zapata didn't notice that he had thrown Paige right on top of the gun he had first knocked out of her hand. She squirmed under his hold, pretending to try and get free as she placed the gun further under her back and out of his sight.

Deputy Zapata bought it and laughed evilly.

"Nina tonto" he hissed. "A pensar que podia escapar. Soy todo"

_Silly girl. To think you could escape me. I am everything._

His eyes gleamed maliciously as saw Jo's knife a few feet away from him. He grabbed it and twirled it in his hands. Paige's eyes followed the blade. She had almost worked the gun from underneath her when Deputy Zapata buried the knife into her chest.

Paige screamed.

Nothing that she had ever experienced came close to the pain she felt. Everything burned. She felt the blood pulsing out of her body, as her heart continued to beat it's last few pumps.

Deputy Zapata sat above her, smiling with an almost erotic contentment.

"Mujer, "he cooed, "Voy a verte morir. Voy a banarse en su sangre."

_I am going to watch you die. I am going to bathe in your blood._

Paige felt her vision begin to blur. A stab to the chest. She wasn't going to survive this.

The demon sat above her, laughing at her defeat. She didn't care. She wasn't afraid, as she counted the last beats of her blood, her last breaths. The pain was fading away from her, like a ship leaving the harbor, the coastline growing smaller and smaller as she sailed onto the horizon.

She was almost curious, in a detached way. How many breaths did she really have left? Ten? Twenty?

Would she see her parents again? Her friends? Abraham?

She felt a twinge of regret at the loss of Bobby. She was sad for leaving Ellen too. And Jo had been her best friend. Paige realized that she wouldn't bring their knife back to them.

But perhaps she would see John. She was filled with hope at that thought. John. John and his odd little dimple, out of character on his somber face. John, the only man who had said that he loved her.

John Winchester, who would be pissed as all hell if Paige died out on her first big hunt alone. John Winchester, who would be furious that she had simply bled to death under the demon when she had the bullet to end its life right beneath her.

Reality snapped back to her like a rubber band. As she pulled her consciousness back to the Earth, the pain in her chest became real once again. Sharp and consuming. With a strength she never knew she possessed, she pulled the gun from under her and shoved it, point blank, into Deputy Zapata's shoulder. The demon barely had time to register the gun in it's chest when Paige pulled the trigger.

Deputy Zapata's body shook like a seizure as the demon inside him died. He collapsed over her, his body used and spent.

He shakily sat up, clutching his shoulder. His eyes found Paige's.

Paige was beginning to fade away again. Nothing was holding her to the Earth this time. She was dying, and no amount of tenacity or denial would change that. She vaguely noticed that Deputy Zapata's shirt was covered in blood. Hers. Though the gush from the wound in his shoulder was catching up.

He registered the blood too, and his eyes landed on the blade in Paige's chest. His face fell as he remembered everything that had happened in the mere minutes that he was possessed.

"Dios mio," he whispered, his breath catching, "No, no. Valerie. Paige. Whatever, no, don't die, please."

Paige's eyes squinted as his face became blurry to her.

Her fingers and toes were growing numb.

"No." he whispered again, "I didn't know, I couldn't fight it. It's all my fault."

Paige heard his voice, but couldn't understand his words. He sounded far away. Once again, Paige was on the ship, sailing away from the coastline. Her world was growing smaller and smaller. Eventually she turned her attention from the coast behind her and instead focused on the horizon ahead.

* * *

Heaven smelled like Purell.

And there was an electronic beeping, soft and consistent.

Paige felt pain, heavy in her limbs, like a lead vest at the dentist. She blinked open her eyes, peering between her lashes.

She was as surprised as she could manage in her drowsy state to register a pair of brown eyes peering back at her. Paige blinked a few times and realized that she was not in heaven. She was still alive.

The overly sanitary and cold room told her that she was in a hospital.

Brown eyes registered that she was regaining consciousness. They left her eyes for a moment and then travelled down to her chest.

Her chest where she had been stabbed. Paige remembered that clearly now.

Confirming whatever it was that they had been looking for, brown eyes turned away. Paige made some sort of sound as she heard footsteps leaving. Paige couldn't turn her head, but she heard the footsteps returning to her. Perhaps she imagined it, but they seemed reluctant.

The brown eyes found hers again.

Paige lifted her hand towards them. It was caught in midair, probably without great difficulty, since Paige's motions felt heavy and slow, as if she were reaching through Jello.

Brown eyes placed her hand back next to her body.

As the warm hand caught her own, Paige felt a rush of familiarity. Déjà vu, perhaps. She felt as if she recognized a very good friend but couldn't remember their name.

She didn't have much time to consider. Brown eyes touched a finger to her temple, and without preamble, Paige fell back asleep.

* * *

Paige's nurse had green eyes. Her doctor had blue.

Everyone who came into the room was subject to Paige's intense gaze as she looked for… someone. She couldn't remember who or why, but she knew that she was looking for someone.

She hoped that whoever she was looking for would be able to answer her questions. The first being, 'how was she alive?'

The doctors were stumped as well.

When Paige had come in, her lungs were full of blood and her heartbeat was weak. She should have died before she even entered the ER. Now, three days later, besides a scar, the young stab victim had made a full recovery.

She was almost positive that it had something to do with a pair of brown eyes.

Paige finally cracked and asked the nurse as she came in to check her vitals if she had any visitors when she was unconscious. The nurse giggled in a way that made Paige want to punch her, but she contolled herself.

"Maybe it was your fiancée?" The nurse suggested sweetly.

Paige had been a hunter long enough to know when to just let a comment or lie roll off. She shrugged, and didn't press the issue. The nurse seemed a little put off by Paige's lack of enthusiasm that generally came with the word "fiancée." But left her room.

The fiancée in question came to visit her the same afternoon. An awkward Deputy Zapata in full uniform stood at the doorway into Paige's hospital room.

"Close the door." Paige said as Deputy Zapata hesitantly entered the room. He opened his mouth to speak, but Paige cut him off. Being sealed in that hospital room without anyone who knew the truth about her and her job was tiring. "What happened? Is Rufus alive? Did you find Celia? Tomas?"

Deputy Zapata broke into a smile.

"Yes, they're all fine. Rufus is here, he'll come in in a second. We found Celia and Tomas the next day. They just woke up in their beds the next morning."

Paige's eyes grew wide.

"We checked them. Not zombies, not demons. Just kids who don't remember what happened but are very excited to be home. Sonia is the only one who remembers the truth. You know Rufus, he checked everything in the book. The kids are fine."

Paige leaned back against her pillows, relieved. She let out a long breath that she was only vaguely aware that she was holding.

Deputy Zapata's brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry I called myself your fiancée." He said, "It was just that they wouldn't let me visit you or anything if I wasn't family. I told them that we were engaged. They believed me."

Paige waved the apology away. She was glad that he had done so. If he had claimed to be a friend, they wouldn't have called him when she recovered. It was quick thinking, especially for someone not used to pulling lies out of their ass more often than truths.

They waited in silence for a second, then Paige looked expectantly at the door for Rufus to come in.

"I'm so sorry." Deputy Zapata said. Paige looked at his watering eyes and realized that he wasn't apologizing for the lie. "I… I felt myself hurting you. I couldn't stop… I swear, I wanted to."

"I told you, demons take over. I don't blame you," said Paige quickly. The guilt had obviously been eating at him.

"That's what Rufus said." He sighed. The remorse had clearly not absolved itself.

"Hey," said Paige, reaching over and putting her hand on his shoulder, "You did good. Don't you dare waste your life feeling guilty over something you couldn't have stopped. I knew a man who did that. He died an early death after a hard life."

Deputy Zapata nodded again.

"Some of us have places to be, " said Rufus, sticking his head into Paige's room. His hard face broke into a smile as he saw Paige. "Ellen would have killed me if I had let you die."

He walked over and looked at Paige's stab wound. Paige sat up and moved her hospital gown to give him a better look at the point of entry. Rufus looked forebodingly up at Paige.

"You're human." It came out as a question.

"As far as I know, " said Paige.

It wasn't natural for a stab wound that precise and deep would be healed at all, let alone that quickly.

Rufus shrugged it off.

"Worse things in this life than to have someone watching out for you." He said.

Paige wasn't sure that she agreed, but didn't say anything.

As Paige watched Rufus take the seat next to Deputy Zapata, she sensed something was off.

Deputy Zapata answered her unspoken question.

"I asked Rufus to train me to be a hunter like you guys." He said.

Paige didn't know how to react to that.

"You sure that's what you want?" she asked. "That's closing the door on a lot of options. Family, career, friends. "

"You did it."

"I didn't have a choice."

Deputy Zapata gave a frustrated sigh. The look that he shot Rufus told Paige that he had been given the exact same lecture before.

"I don't have a choice either." Said Deputy Zapata, "You think I picked this job for the doughnuts? I need to help people. I need to protect people."

Paige gave an apologetic look at Rufus.

"Why won't you help me join you?" Deputy Zapata asked.

"Because I'm too old for that shit," snapped Rufus. "Don't throw your life away, kid. This was a good hunt. Practically nobody died, and everyone gets to leave with their dignity. Call me, "and he turned his attention to Paige this time too, "When you have to kill a little girl because the demon possessing her is going to kill you first. Call me when you have to tell a wife that her husband died because you were too slow, or cocky or just plain unlucky."

He was right, Paige thought, she had been extremely lucky to be so clean this far in her career.

"Fuck that." Said Deputy Zapata, causing both Paige and Rufus to look up in surprise. "You killed that little girl, but how many people did you save? You were unlucky once? Well, how many more lucky days did you give people throughout your career? If you assholes won't help me, I'll find someone who will."

Paige let out a laugh as Rufus struggled for a retort.

Deputy Zapata's eyes never left Rufus.

"Kid, you don't know what you're getting yourself into." Said Rufus with a defeated sigh.

"Does that mean you'll do it?" asked Deputy Zapata. Rufus hung his head in defeat and nodded.

* * *

Paige rode with Rufus on the way to her motel room in Roma. The small town didn't have a hospital, so she had to be transferred to one in El Paso. Deputy Zapata had used the squad car and had to return to work.

"Sorry you got roped into that." Said Paige after twenty minutes or so of silence.

Rufus shrugged.

"He's not so bad." Rufus said, "He's already got the physical training."

"Have you ever trained anyone before?" asked Paige.

Rufus broke into a weak smile as he remembered.

"A few times." He said. "Bobby, I helped him when the demon took his wife. Even John Winchester did a hunt with me every once and a while."

Paige smiled too. Rufus' expression slowly grew more dark as he continued remembering.

"I trained Fred Vince, and Joe Yates. I trained Carson and Caleb for a little while too." Rufus looked determinedly out the window. "They're all dead now. " He said. "All but Bobby and me."

Paige regretted bringing up the topic.

The weight of Deputy Zapata's fate suddenly crushed down on her. If he died an early death, it would be partly her fault for showing him that side of reality.

The woman he would never marry, the family he would never have, all that weighed on Rufus and Paige.

"He's tough." Said Rufus. Breaking the silence. "He'll be ok."

Paige didn't think he sounded like he fully believed it.

* * *

Paige was scrambling around her motel room, trying to collect the last of her belongings. She couldn't seem to find her cell phone charger to save her life.

A knock on the door reminded her that it was past her check out time.

"In a minute," she called, on her hands and her knees looking under the bed.

"Well, that's a nice view." Said a familiar voice behind her.

Deputy Zapata stood in the doorway, a confident smile on his face.

Paige had gotten to know the Deputy Zapata under duress. She had a feeling that the usual Deputy Zapata liked to flirt with women.

Judging from that shit eating smile and his cocky stance, Paige guessed that it was usually pretty well received.

She rolled her eyes as she stood up.

"Cell phone charger" she explained.

Deputy Zapata chuckled.

"Well, I just quit my job." He said.

"So you're really going to do it." Paige said.

"Look, don't give me another lecture, please." He said, sounding wary. "Rufus has given me a few already."

Paige nodded and didn't say anything. Who was she to tell anyone how to live his life? She lived trying her hardest to stay a step ahead of the rational voice in her head, telling her that she was doomed.

"Well, " Deputy Zapata continued. "I got something for you."

Paige turned her attention from the floor back to Deputy Zapata.

He pulled a plastic Ziploc bag from his coat pocket. Inside it was an iron knife with William Anthony Harvelle engraved in the blade.

"It's still technically evidence," explained Deputy Zapata as he handed her the bag, "So if I hadn't already quit, it would have cost me my job. That crazy psychopath that stabbed you is still walking around somewhere."

He smiled weakly, as if it were a joke. Paige could see that the memory still haunted him.

"Deputy Zapata…" she started.

He let out a snort of laughter.

"I think you can call me David now."

Paige giggled at that too. David reached forward to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

Paige hated herself for flinching.

He dropped his hand and looked awkwardly at the ground.

"That John guy… he wasn't just your mentor, was he?" David asked.

Paige shook her head.

"He died, right?"

Paige nodded.

"About a month ago." She said.

"Shit," said David, running his hand through his hair. He looked Paige in the eyes as he said, "I'm so sorry."

Paige realized that he was the first person to tell her that. He was the first person to offer their condolences to her grief.

Bobby, Ellen and Jo were subscribers to the 'strong and silent' type of pain that meant never talking about it. Sam and Dean didn't think that she had earned her right to miss him.

Her eyes filled with tears that she quickly tried to wipe away.

David kissed her on the forehead, and then began to walk out the room.

"You'll call me when you're over that guy, right?" he asked from the doorway with that arrogant smile returning.

Paige laughed and shooed him out of the room. As she turned again to her room, she saw her cell phone charger sitting coiled neatly at the top of her suitcase.

* * *

Her phone rang as she walked to her Cadillac.

"Yeah," she answered.

"Hey, Paige. It's Bobby. I've got a job for you in Kentucky."

"I'm in Texas," said Paige, "I can be there in a day. Fill me in."


	11. Chapter 11: Gods and Angels

**This is yet another chapter that I ended up splitting into multiple parts. I just had so much fun writing one of my favorite characters (You'll see in a minute!) that I couldn't stop. I'm publishing the second part of this chapter in a few hours. Basically, I wrote it, but I know it can be tiring to read a crazy long entry. So, enjoy, and stay on the edge of your seat for the next part. **

* * *

Joanna Beth Harvelle was literally freezing her clit off.

"C'mon, Paige…. Pick up. Pick up pick up pick up."

The phone rang a couple of more times.

Jo was standing in jeans and a light coat at five in the morning at a truck stop in Wyoming.

Even the pay phone in her hand was like ice.

Two truck drivers walked into the diner she was standing outside of, talking in low voices. As they passed, they gave a crude laugh, leaving no doubt in her mind what they were talking about.

"Jesus, Paige, answer the phone." Jo hissed again, shifting her weight to try and get warm.

"Yeah." Said a familiar, if groggy, voice on the other line.

Jo had never been so happy to hear anyone.

"Paige, " she said quickly. "I'm at a truck stop outside Ten Sleep. You need to come get me."

Paige was quiet for a moment.

"That's in Wyoming." Paige said slowly, sleep still heavy in her voice.

Jo rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. I need you to get me."

"I'm in Wyoming." Paige said, beginning to piece it together.

"Yeah. And it's cold. And I didn't bring a thick jacket. Just come get me, OK?"

"Why are you in Wyoming?" Paige's voice had regained clarity now. And it sounded suspicious.

Jo wanted to yell at her friend's hesitation. Any other day Jo would understand, but she was freezing, she had just ditched her credit cards and bags and had narrowly escaped being bullied into giving a blowjob to a "helpful" mechanic in exchange for towing her car.

"Paige Meredith Garcia, you are 22 years old. You were born on June 3. You're a Gemini. You don't eat meat. You tell people that your favorite movie is _Gone with the Wind_ but it's really _Dirty Dancing_. Your bra size is a 34 DD. You had kinky sex with your hunting mentor, John Winchester. You like Jelly Beans, except for the purple ones. Do I need to go on, or are you going to come and get me before hypothermia sets in?"

"Ten Sleep?" Paige asked again, fully awake now.

"Yeah. Hurry. I had to ditch my stuff. There are several gentlemanly truck drivers who would love to buy me breakfast in exchange for sticking their balls on my chin, if you know what I mean."

"I'm leaving now."

* * *

Jo practically leapt into the Cadillac as it pulled into the truck stop. She was shivering and her lips were turning white. Paige spared her a glance, then reached into her backseat to grab a blanket she had stored there. She tossed it to Jo.

Jo decided that her favorite quality about Paige was that she knew when to be quiet. It was never a skill she herself had learned, but she was immensely grateful that her friend didn't ask any questions.

She wasn't sure where she would start if Paige did.

She ran away from home. She discovered that her father had died because of someone's fuck up. John Winchester's fuck up, at that. Paige's ex… whatever.

At least when Jo looked at Paige, she didn't see John looking back at her like she had when she looked at Dean. She had liked him, too.

Now, when she looked into his green eyes, all she saw was the coward who killed her dad looking back at her.

After Paige left, the fights between Jo and Ellen got worse and worse. Jo begged Ash to track Paige down so she could join her. Jo may have learned about hunting around the same time she learned how to talk, but her last hunt reminded her that she still had a lot to learn. She figured it would be safer to travel with Paige than by herself.

"Go south," Jo said as they approached the highway. "I had to ditch my weapons by the side of the road when my car broke down. I couldn't let her go to the mechanic with machetes in her trunk."

Obediently, Paige turned south.

She pulled over as she saw Jo's old beetle parked by the side of the road.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," growled Jo, as they approached the car.

The little beetle had been stripped. Tires, back seat, mirrors. Thank goodness she had thought to stash her weapons in the woods.

Jo got out of the car and headed into the trees. Paige followed a half step behind her, a shotgun held in her hand.

Jo kicked a thorny bush aside and started kicking up dirt. Jo had wrapped her weapons in her coat to keep them as clean as she could. When she saw the black cloth sleeve of her coat, she stopped digging.

As they got back into the Cadillac, Jo's favorite quality about Paige suddenly became the most annoying. She looked into Paige's face to try and see how she was reacting. Paige must have felt her eyes on her.

"You hungry?" Were the first words she spoke to her friend whom she hadn't seen in almost six months.

"Always." Said Jo, smiling.

They stopped at a chain breakfast restaurant, with a cheesy waitress and plastic menus.

Paige sipped her coffee when it came, her eyes focused on Jo almost as if she was looking through her.

"I couldn't take it anymore," said Jo, without provocation. "She was so controlling. I snuck off with… with the Winchester boys. After that she got super nazi. I couldn't even leave to go to the store by myself. She had me on lock down. That isn't how I want to live."

Paige had made a sour face at the mention of the Sam and Dean. Now she pursed her lips together, as if choosing her words.

"Sounds like she loves you and wants to keep you safe."

"Kinda like how Bobby wanted to keep you safe, huh?" said Jo quickly, bracing for a fight.

Paige cocked her head, conceding her point. Jo relaxed her shoulders. Judgmental wasn't Paige's style.

"I heard that you took out a big bad." Said Jo, leaning forward, wanting to hear every detail from Paige's mouth. "A boogeyman in Texas." Paige's eyes flicked up to Jo. She continued with the confirmation that she was on the right track. "Rufus stopped by the bar. He came in with a flirty Mexican guy. Cutie too."

"Rufus shouldn't have said anything" Paige said, smiling despite herself.

"He didn't. El Cutie-o did." Jo said. She might have imagined it, but Paige was blushing. "He practically wet himself when he heard that we were friends. He wanted to know everything about you."

Paige rolled her eyes but broke out into a soft laugh.

"Was he…?" Jo trailed off.

"No!" Paige said, "No, not even a little bit. Did you and he…?"

"No!" Jo said, but giggled.

Paige smiled too. Jo was glad, she recognized this Paige. Up until that point, she had been unnerved at Paige's seriousness. Had six months of hunting alone really hardened her up that much?

Jo was ravenous as their food came. Paige poked at her oatmeal a few times before she spoke again.

"So, you want in on a hunt?" asked Paige.

"Ou ot sumin?" asked Jo, her mouth full of pancake.

Paige tilted her head towards the table beside theirs. Someone was holding the newspaper up as they ate. The headline facing them read "_Seattle Slaughter Strikes Again; Fourth Body Found. Police Stumped, Say: Pagan Worship." _

Jo swallowed her food.

"We could be in Seattle by mid afternoon." She said, raising her eyebrow at Paige.

* * *

"No, I swear, you look hot." Jo insisted as she zipped Paige into her black Marc Jacobs dress.

Paige shot a disbelieving look at her.

Jo, through some feminine power of conversation that Paige could only imagine, had pin pointed a bar where cops and detectives hung out on their nights off.

Since both were obviously under 25, they could not even pretend to be agents, detectives or any other sort of legitimate professional without being laughed at. But, Jo said with a wink that terrified Paige to her core, they had much more valuable tools at their disposal.

Tools that were all but spilling out of Jo's size two dress.

Jo, who was tiny and sexy like a sports car, slid easily into a slinky red number. With a hair clip and a swipe of lipstick, the girl looked like a million bucks.

Paige, on the other hand, could hardly breathe in Jo's tiny dress. She was a size six on a good day, a size eight on a normal one. It was a miracle that they even got the zipper up.

"Jo, " Paige gasped, positive that she would tear the seams should she fully exhale. "I'm too fat for this dress."

"Bull shit. You're all ass and titties." Jo insisted, tugging ungracefully at the top of Paige's dress to cover where the cups of her bra could be seen.

"Fine. Jo, I'm too much ass and titties for this dress." Paige pleaded.

"This isn't going work," Jo finally admitted. Paige cautiously let out a sigh of relief.

"You're going to have to take your bra off."

* * *

Jo wanted to reach over and tell Paige to get her shit together as they walked into the bar.

While "confidant" was never a word Jo would use to describe Paige, she was usually at least competent. She was a decent enough fighter and sufficiently clever to take down a demon, but Jo felt like she was teaching the girl sexuality as a second language. Jo was a strong believer of the 'every body is beautiful' philosophy. Paige was no exception. Though as opposite of Jo's lean physique as was possible to be, Paige had curves that Jo could only envy. The problem was that the girl walked as if she had had gotten her hips and breasts overnight; awkward and guarded.

All eyes were on them as they stepped in. Jo straightened her back and flashed the room a dazzling smile. She glanced at Paige out of the corner of her eye. Paige stood straight, at least, though a quick look into her eyes showed complete terror over the task on which they were about to embark.

Jo just prayed that no one would be looking at Paige's eyes. But with Paige's large breasts obviously unsupported and the faint outline of her nipples peeking through the fabric, Jo wasn't too concerned.

"We should split up, " muttered Jo. Paige didn't look thrilled at the idea, but she nodded. Jo walked to an open seat at the bar while a tall cop with a friendly face approached Paige.

Jo slid easily into a stool.

"That's a lovely dress." Said the woman sitting next to Jo at the bar, nursing a beer.

She was breathtaking. Her skin was as dark as Jo had ever seen and her hair was wrapped in an elegant bun. She wasn't in uniform, but Jo could tell that she was a force to be reckoned with.

"I'm Shelly," said Jo, holding her hand out.

"Lieutenant Kim Craig. You can call me Kim." The woman replied, shaking it. "So, I have to ask. How did a young girl like you end up in a bar like this?"

The bartender handed Jo her drink, as Jo reached into her clutch to pay, Lieutenant Craig waved her hand, telling the bartender to put it on her tab.

"Thanks," said Jo.

"Don't mention it." Said Kim. "So, how'd a little college thing like you wind up on this side of town?"

"You make it sound so bad." Said Jo, smiling playfully. Kim returned the smile." From what I can tell, this is the safest place in town. All cops."

Kim laughed.

"My boys may be gentlemen on the street, " said Kim, "but they are anything but in a bar. Especially when beautiful ladies are present."

Kim gestured to where Paige was sitting, looking surprised by the six men who surrounded her. Each was begging her to let them teach her to shoot pool or dance. Each was hoping that she'd let them take her home. Jo smiled to herself. The girl was a walking nuclear weapon and had no clue. Jo turned her attention back to Kim. As she did, she caught Kim staring at the curve of her neck.

"Maybe I have a thing for cops." Said Jo, softly.

"Is that so?" asked Kim, looking at Jo's lips.

"They get me all hot and bothered." Jo continued, even more quietly. She slid the silver pendant on her necklace through her fingers; Kim followed them with her eyes.

"You should be careful how you talk in a place like this," whispered Kim. "Someone might be looking to take advantage of you."

"Maybe that's exactly what I want."

* * *

Paige's phone buzzed in her purse.

"_Gone home with someone. Don't wait up. ;)"_ read the text message.

Paige took a second to glance around the bar. Jo had already left, but Paige didn't know with whom. She felt guilty for not keeping a closer eye on her. Jo talked a tough talk, but Paige knew that her sexual experience was not terribly more extensive than her own. Jo was playing with fire, and Paige had no idea where she was, should she have to help stomp out some flames.

The sweet cop next to her, Jeff?, saw her worried expression.

"You doing ok, Liz?" he asked, voice full of concern.

"Oh, yeah, my friend just left and I don't know who she left with," Paige admitted, "I worry about her."

The other four men at her table looked around the bar. Paige buried the desire to laugh. Of course all these men would be so protective. Plus, the fact that she was one of the only four women in the bar helped.

"Little Blondie?" asked the man sitting across from her. He was easily in his forties with a Tom Selleck-esque moustache. "I think I saw her leave with Lieutenant Craig."

The men all looked around at each other, smiling at some inside joke. Paige was missing out on it.

"Lieutenant Craig?" she asked, "Is he a nice guy? I'm awfully protective."

Tom Selleck moustache gave a hearty chuckle.

"Don't you worry, Lieutenant Craig is very… tender." He explained with a mischievous smile.

This set all the men back laughing.

Paige wanted to press the issue, but choose not to. She wanted the men to get back to talking about the case.

After lavishing attention on her, the men grew bored as they realized that she wasn't in the mood to be picked up. Instead, they started to talk amongst each other about the high profile case on the cover of the newspaper.

Occasionally, they would look over to her and ask her opinion on something, but Paige doubted if they really heard her. They liked having her at their table to tease and flirt with when the conversation lulled, but forgot she was there when the talk turned back to the case.

Paige realized that Jo was right on the money when she suggested that they go to a cop bar. The men were sharing more information, theories and rumors than she could have ever gotten from a file. And, since she was playing such an innocent, wide-eyed character, they spoke more openly amongst each other, not really caring what Paige overheard.

Paige guessed that that was where a majority of Jo's hunting information came from; hunters in her mother's bar who forgot that she was even there.

"I'm telling you," said Jeff? "It has to be some sort of serial rapist. I mean, first that woman in her apartment, then that sorority girl, then that sixteen year old at bible camp, and finally the girl on the bridge."

"There is no connection." Said Tom Selleck moustache, waving aside the younger man's theory.

A third cop looked at Paige.

"What do you think?" he asked her, leaning forward with a patronizing smile on his face.

"Well, I don't know," said Paige with a little giggle, "I'm not an expert. But it seems like there could be a connection, all these girls were in their teens or twenties, right?"

"Yeah." Said third cop.

"You said bible camp and a sorority. Was there any chance that those girls were Christians?"

Tom Selleck moustache looked thoughtfully at her.

"Yeah…" He said, taking her a little more seriously,

"Was there any chance…" Paige paused, "that they were virgins?"

The cops looked at each other, then turned their attention back to Paige, surprise written all over their faces.

"As a matter of fact, they were." Jeff? Said.

* * *

"_Got lead. Where are you? Heard you went home with a Lieutenant. Congrats, you big slut ;). Txt me back. I'll be at the motel room, gotta do research. If you don't txt me by morning, I'm coming looking for you."_

Paige slipped her phone back into her purse.

All of the men she sat with had asked her if she needed a ride home and looked her over skeptically as she told them she was good to drive.

She had only had a half of her beer. She was afraid that she would drink too much and bloat too big for her dress. She was also afraid of what would happen in she had to pee. The dress was practically painted onto her.

She got into her car and started driving to the motel. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't react at first when she saw a pair of brown eyes peering at her in her rearview mirror. A second glance told her that there was definitely someone in her back seat, she practically ran her car off the road.

Slamming on her brakes she reached under her seat and pulled one of her hidden knifes out. As she turned to confront her nonconsensual passenger she lifted the blade, ready to strike in the throat.

But there was no one in her back seat.

Paige stomach filled with ice. She was positive that someone had been sitting behind her. She glanced up at her rearview mirror, and felt comfort in the hex bag that dangled there, repelling demons from the car.

"Knife won't work." Said an annoyingly sing-song voice beside her.

A man sat in the passenger's seat, his eyes shining maliciously. Paige jumped then swiftly thrust the knife into the man's neck.

He gurgled, his eyes grew wide with shock. Blood poured from his neck.

Paige took a shaky second to calm herself. It had all happened so quickly. She had just killed a man. A, clearly human, man.

She would need to dump the body. She glanced around and saw that no one had passed her since she pulled over. She was in the middle of nowhere, on the outskirts of town. A track of woods lay to her left.

She decided that she'd figure out how to get the blood out of her car later. First she had to bury her victim. She took a deep breath.

"Well look at you," said the man's voice again. He handed the knife back to her, handle first. The blood had disappeared. He looked fine besides a mean smile twisting at his lips, giving her the impression that he was enjoying quite a good joke at her expense. "A quick slice to the throat and you're already thinking about what to do with the body."

Paige resisted the urge to scream, but scrambled out of her car.

Standing in the cold, she looked at him through the window. He seemed completely at ease with her panicked response.

"What are you?" she asked.

The passenger window rolled down smoothly. Paige got Goosebumps as she remembered that her window had a crank handle.

"Come on, Thelma, get back into the car and we can rap." He cooed.

"Fuck that. Tell me what you are."

His eyes flashed.

"Oh, cupcake, you can't handle the truth." His voice had lost its playful quality, and it put Paige even more on edge than before.

"Try me."

The man broke into a cruel smile. Instantly, Paige was no longer standing outside the car looking in, but sitting back in the front seat. The man sitting next to her had resumed his joking smile.

She shot a terrified look at him.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Ah ha. I will happily answer who I am, just not what I am."

Paige raised her eyebrows, waiting for his response.

"Many call me Loki. But would a trickster of any other name smell as sweet?"

"You must really suck." Said Paige, "I thought your kind sat around, playing jokes on people anonymously. You've just introduced yourself."

"Sugar lips, I am more powerful than you could ever comprehend." He said, "You see what I want you to see."

"What do you want with me?"

"I want you to go to your room, pack your things and get the hell out of town."

"No."

"No?"

"Something is killing girls in this town." She looked him over, "Is it you?"

"Top notch investigation skills. Tell me, do you go up to _everyone_ and ask them, point blank, if they did it, or is there a screening process?"

"Yeah, only demons"

"Looks like someone needs to hit the books. I'm no demon."

"A rose by any other name."

He crooked a real smile at that one.

Paige squinted at him. He seemed… familiar.

"Have you been involved in one of my hunts before?" she asked him, racking her brain for any clues in her previous hunts that would lead to a trickster being involved.

"We've never met." Loki said quickly.

Paige was pleased to finally see the stupid grin wiped off his face.

"I saw you in the hospital." Said Paige, suddenly remembering.

Loki's eyes flickered. Brown eyes.

"You healed me."

Loki ignored her and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Why? How?"

Loki was growing tired of her questions. He flashed a warning look at Paige. She noted that the wind had picked up outside the car. Dark clouds that had not been there when she left the bar began rolling in. Thunder rolled ominously in the background.

"Look, Sugar, I'm really just being polite here. I could send you to Tibet without even blinking. I could make you forget everything you ever knew. How would you like to spend your life as an ant?"

"Why did you heal me?"

"Because I did, alright?"

Paige paused, looking at him. She tilted her head to the side before she proceeded cautiously.

"Do you love me, or something?"

That got a reaction. Loki gagged and looked as if she were a maggot on his dinner plate. He shook his head no and shivered as if trying to dislodge something crawly from his back.

"No, you arrogant, finite _human_. You clearly do not understand what I am and what I can do."

"Yes, yes, you told me. Tibet, memory, life as an ant. I understand. I don't understand why you're here." Paige said, "Why you care. If you're as powerful as you say you are, why haven't you killed me already? Surely, I'm hardly even a blip on your radar."

Loki turned in his seat so that he was facing Paige. He placed one hand on the dashboard of her car, the other on the seat rest behind her.

The human vessel that he was using was not noticeably large, but he suddenly seemed too big. Threateningly so.

"Now, is it more important_ that_ I saved your life, or _why_ I saved your life?"

"The 'why' seems most important to me at the moment."

Loki looked darkly at her, then vanished.

Paige blinked and looked around her car. There was no sign that anyone had been there. The sky was clear once again and the wind had died down. Did she imagine it?

Her Cadillac roared to life beneath her. Her hands were nowhere near the ignition.

The engine revved once, twice, on the third time it was louder than ever.

"Fine!" Paige said, panicked, "Fine!" she said, more calmly the second time. "I'm going."

The instant she put her hand on the wheel, the engine returned to it's usual contented purr.

* * *

"Paige!" slurred Jo as Paige walked back into the room.

Paige started to tell Jo about the man she had seen in her car, but as she opened her mouth, she found that she couldn't move her tongue to say the words.

She struggled for a moment, and then surrendered.

He didn't seem to be the most immediate threat.

Jo stumbled from the bed towards her friend.

"I missed you!" Jo wailed, her sloppy face attempting to form some semblance of seriousness. Her eyes were clouded. Paige caught her before she fell down.

"Someone had a good time," said Paige with a smile, putting Jo back onto the bed. "I assume things went well with Lieutenant Craig?"

"She's amazing." Jo slurred, lying back on the bed, her eyes rolling as she remembered. Paige snorted then started slipping Jo's heels off.

"She?" Asked Paige, amused, "I didn't know you swung that way."

"Baby, I swing any way the wind takes me." Jo laughed at her own joke. Her eyes closing lazily as she dozed off to sleep.

Paige wanted to let her friend rest, but the case was more important. She nudged Jo awake.

"I got a lead. What did you find out? I'll let you sleep and get started doing research."

"Oh. I forgot all about it." Jo said, sounding surprised, "I was just having so much fun…"

Paige looked quickly at Jo. Jo liked to party more than Paige, and she liked to drink more, as well, but Jo would never forget about a case. Ever.

Drunk, sober, riding on some sort of lesbian waves of ecstasy, Jo Harvelle would always remember the case first.

"I'm drunk…" mused Jo, her bleary eyes squinted at the ceiling as she forced herself to focus. "I only had one drink."

"Did someone slip you something?" Asked Paige, concerned now.

"I was raised in a bar, " Jo said, sitting up and rubbing her temples as she tried to focus. "I know better than to leave my goddamned drink unattended."

"Kim." Jo concluded after a moment. "Lieutenant Craig."

"You think she did this to you. Like a siren or something?"

"No, the MO doesn't fit. I don't want to hurt you, or anyone else for that matter."

"What did you want to do until just now?"

"I don't remember." Jo said, her eyes sliding out of focus again, "I can't think."

She fell back against the pillows, dead to the world.

* * *

Paige sat with her face buried in a book, trying to fight the sleep that was pulling at the corners of her brain.

What was killing these virgins?

It was no coincidence that on the same night, both hunters had a run in with something supernatural. Tricksters could manipulate what people saw. The same thing might have appeared to both of them in different forms.

But it wasn't adding up. Tricksters couldn't change how people felt. They couldn't control emotions. They could manipulate situations to produce a desired effect, but he couldn't have made Jo drunk. So, Paige decided with trepidation, there was not one, but two things to gank in this town. And she had no idea what the second one could be.

"That book won't help you." Said a familiar voice. Loki was sitting across from Paige at the table. His head in his hand, looking bored.

Paige jumped up and opened her mouth to scream. With a lilt of his eyebrow, Loki caused her voice to catch in her throat.

"Shhhh, you'll wake the baby." He said, glancing at the sleeping Jo.

"Have a seat" he continued, gesturing to where Paige had been sitting before he appeared.

He dropped a heavy book onto the table.

"Roman Mythology?" Paige asked, pulling the book towards her.

As she opened the book, Loki lazily flicked his hand, causing the pages to flip.

"Bacchus?" Paige read off the page that the book fell open to.

Loki nodded.

"A god?" Paige asked, looking up at Loki skeptically. "A real god is doing this? The god of wine, nonetheless?"

"More or less, yes." Said Loki, "You see, God's get their power from faith. People have to believe in a God for him or her to have a lot of power. A lot of the old Gods are pretty pissed at being put in the garage when the newer, shiny models roll into popularity."

Paige tried to decide whether or not to trust him. She had no idea what he wanted from her. But it was clearly something. He had healed her. But, if he was as powerful as he said, Paige couldn't comprehend any reason he would be aware of her existence, let alone need her.

She sighed; clearly, Loki wasn't going to kill her. He'd had about a million opportunities to do so. And, as their episode in the car demonstrated, he was not too keen on her asking questions. She put her head in her hands; taking out a God was an impossibly big job. She had to trust someone, and Loki had already saved her once.

"So, why is he… it… killing virgins?"

"Boredom, I suppose. He gets his jollies by corrupting people, girls. Virgins. When he's done, he kills them." Loki shrugged like he didn't much care. "Usually he seduces them. Gets them love drunk, then after a few days, he gets bored and moves on."

"Why did he pick Jo?" asked Paige looking behind her to her friend.

"I told you, he has a thing for virgins. Likes to corrupt them."

Paige crinkled her forehead as she thought.

"Jo's not a virgin," she said.

Loki raised his eyebrows.

"You sure about that?" He asked her.

"Yeah, there was her boyfriend, Rick…" Paige trailed off. Jo couldn't be a virgin… it was impossible.

"Looks like poor Rick rounded all the bases but never hit home. And girl on girl doesn't count. As long as the hymen is intact, she's a virgin for all intents and purposes."

Paige looked suspiciously up at Loki.

"How could you possibly know that she's a virgin? Does she have some sort of magical glow?"

"The same way I can tell that you haven't had sex in seven months." Said Loki, cocking his head and smiling cruelly, "I can smell it all over you. Or should I say, a _lack _of it."

"That's disgusting."

"You brought it up."

"How do I kill Bacchus?" Paige asked quickly, changing the topic.

"You don't." he said, "You get your little friend, you get in your mid-life crisis of a car and you get the hell out of Seattle."

"I can't leave while people are dying." Said Paige.

"You can't kill a God." Said Loki firmly, "You are in way too deep."

"Why are you even here?" asked Paige. "Why do you care?"

Loki's lips formed into a grim line.

"You don't get to ask questions about me." He said, "I'm saving your ass right now. Get out of town. Don't look back. Maybe try for a little poltergeist until your training wheels come off, Buffy."

"I need to sleep." Said Paige, defeated. Despite his obnoxious tone, he was right. this job was way to big for them. She made a mental note to call Bobby and tell him that there was something big going on in Seattle. Paige glanced at a Jo, passed out on the bed. The girl would have a hell of a hangover in the morning. "I can't drive far this tired. Jo is still to drunk. I'll sleep a few hours, then we'll leave."

As she turned back to Loki, he had disappeared.

* * *

It was five in the morning when Paige heard Jo moving around in the bathroom.

Assuming that she was expelling alcohol from her system, Paige rolled over to get back to sleep.

Jo started digging in Paige's purse.

"What are you doing?" asked Paige, sitting up.

Jo didn't answer her. Paige sat up a little straighter. Jo had never been _too _quiet. Even when she was pissed, she didn't have the patience to pull out the 'silent treatment'.

"Jo?" Paige repeated cautiously, walking over to her friend. She put a hand on her shoulder.

Jo turned around and slapped Paige's hand away. Failing to find the keys, Jo walked out the door. Paige threw on a pair of jeans and a tank top as she trotted after a Jo who was clearly under the influence of something. She grabbed her duffel bag of weapons on the way out.

* * *

Paige walked behind Jo for about twenty minutes when they approached an empty warehouse. Jo kicked in the door in.

The entire way over, Jo hadn't even looked back at Paige. She hadn't reacted as cars drove close to her on the high way. She stared determinedly forward, to wherever she was going. Bacchus, Paige assumed, was calling her back to him.

As Paige was about to walk in the door, a startlingly strong grip pulled her back out.

Paige was unsurprised to see Loki; gripping her upper arm and looking pissed.

"Ok, I must not be speaking English. I told you to Thelma and Louise your asses right out of town."

"It's calling her, " Paige said, looking through a dirty window to see Jo, standing in the middle of the warehouse. She was still staring blankly straight ahead. "I need to save her."

"Nope. " said Loki, quickly glancing into the warehouse at Jo. "Its got its claws in that one. She's lost. You, however, still need to make like a tree and leave."

"Break her spell." Said Paige, turning to him. "We'll leave if you just break whatever she's under."

Loki rolled his eyes.

"She's made the exchange. I can't do anything about her."

"Exchange?"

"A supernatural exchange." He said impatiently, "Once a demon, god, whatever, gets a taste of a human's essence, that human becomes bound to them."

"Like a Crossroad Demon's kiss."

"Something like that, though, from your friend's actions, I'm gonna guess that it was something a little stronger than a French that bound her."

"Then what?"

Loki was getting desperate to get Paige out of there.

"It's a fluid thing." He said, "Bodily fluid."

"So, like blood?"

He raised his eyebrows at her, knowingly.

"No."

"Then wha…?" Then comprehension dawned on Paige, "Like… sexual fluid?"

"Blood went out of style around the time that AIDs became a thing. Almost no one uses it anymore. If they do, it's more for appearance than anything else. I wasn't there, but I'm guessing your friend and her godly lover ingested an awful lot of each other's lady juice last night."

Paige shook the graphic image from her mind.

"I'm not leaving without her." Paige said, trying to break from Loki's grasp. He easily held her, not even acknowledging her efforts. "If you're so damn powerful, you can do something. I know you can."

"I can. I won't." said Loki, "I'm not sticking my neck out and putting myself on every god's little radar for some human speck of insignificance."

The clear dark sky became darker as clouds rolled in. The lights around the warehouse flickered. Paige looked at Loki who was watching the lights flash as well, a look of apprehension on his face.

"You're not doing that." Paige whispered.

He spared her an annoyed look, then put his finger over her lips. His eyes went back into the warehouse. As Paige followed his gaze, she saw a beautiful black woman walk towards Jo. She extended her arm and ran her fingers along Jo's chin.

Jo leaned towards her touch. Bacchus lifted both hands to skim over Jo's body, lifting her shirt.

Paige saw a thousand tiny scratches and symbols appear, each dripping blood. Bacchus was carving itself into her. Paige turned back to Loki.

"If you don't want to 'stick your neck out,' you had better go. I'm going in to save my friend."

Loki looked at her determined face and took a deep breath, as if preparing to do something he knew he would regret. He shoved Paige against the wall, then pushed her to her knees.

"Say here," he commanded. It didn't seem that Paige had a great deal of choice in the matter. Paige felt her entire body lock. Some sort of invisible ropes were holding her. Her mouth was sealed shut as well.

Loki squared his shoulders and walked into the warehouse.

* * *

"Loki," said Bacchus as she heard sensed Loki's presence. She didn't bother to look up from grazing her fingers lazily along Jo's naked and scarred chest.

"Bacchus, what has it been? Five hundred years? Six? Too long."

Bacchus laughed softly.

"When was the last time we ravaged a group of virgins?" she asked, turning behind her, "Wait, I must be thinking of something else. You were never the 'virgin ravaging' type."

"You know me. I'll pass on the virgins. Next time you organize a prostitute ravaging though, you call me up."

Bacchus smiled.

"Oh, those are never any fun. Sure, whores fuck like magic. But, I don't know, something about the pure blood. Just knowing that they're so innocent. Watching their faces as you rip that innocence from them, literally. That is worth so much more."

"To each their own, I guess." Replied Loki.

"You didn't come here to ravage this one, I assume." Bacchus continued, lightly. "What can I do you for?"

"I'm afraid I have a favor to ask." Loki said, stepping closer.

"Hmm?" asked Bacchus.

"I need this particular human." Loki said, stepping close enough to reach out and grab Jo. "I'll get you another."

Bacchus's eyes flashed.

"Would you really, Gabriel?"

Loki froze at being addressed by that name.

"Oh, I've known for a while." Bacchus continued, not taking her eyes off him. "I never really cared. An angel, I hate. But a rebel, I can get on board with. You took up the torch of a pagan god pretty well too. Women, drinking, drugs, mischief. I thought to myself, 'hey, that angel is just my style.' Kept it to myself. You kept your angel-ness to yourself. It wasn't too hard to figure it out. Mohammed gets the prophecies and suddenly the messenger angel of God is nowhere to be found. Not a hundred years later and you trot along into the picture."

Gabriel swallowed hard. A shadow of nervousness was cast along his face.

"And now, you want to come and take one of my virgins. It wasn't enough that your father, your God, came along and took everything from me. My empire, my temples, my sacrifices. People used to fear me. Now? Empty temples for tourist photographs. Hollow echoes of my power."

"I rebelled, Bacchus, I'm not an angel. Not anymore. I'm just asking you to please, let this one go. She's far too thin for your tastes anyways."

"You will always be an angel." Said Bacchus, sadly. "I always feared that, but now? Now it is so clear."

Bacchus turned away from Jo, towards the angel. Jo continued to stand, staring blankly ahead of her.

"Bacchus, don't do anything rash," Gabriel warned, backing up nonetheless.

Bacchus looked sadly at Gabriel. She lifted her arm and Gabriel was knocked to the ground, blood spilling from his mouth.

"I'm so sorry." Said Bacchus, "But you can take an angel out of heaven, you just can't take the heaven out of an angel."

Gabriel swung his arm through the air, causing the roof of the warehouse to shake. Bacchus looked up at the ceiling, giving Gabriel the opportunity to spring to his feet. Gabriel vanished from his position on the floor appearing behind Bacchus. He thrust his blade into the god's neck.

Bacchus's neck began spewing blood. Even as it did so, she laughed.

"You think this will end anything?" she asked. "Someday, everyone will know. What will you do then? Will you kill us all? All your friends? We've been good to you, Gabriel, and this is the thanks we get?"

Gabriel didn't have a chance to respond. Bacchus fell to the ground, silent.

Dead.

* * *

Gabriel grabbed the disoriented Jo, pulling her towards the exit. Jo hesitated. Gabriel didn't take the time to explain. He threw Jo over his shoulder as easily as if she were a pillow.

He snapped his fingers as he ran out the door, releasing Paige from her binds. She stood up quickly, then jogged to keep up with Gabriel's quick pace.

Her Cadillac appeared out of nowhere.

Gabriel threw Jo into the backseat, then pushed Paige in as well. He cast a quick look over his shoulder, back at the warehouse before climbing into the drivers seat.

Paige opened her mouth to ask a question but he silenced her with a look.

He was scared.

Gabriel slammed his foot to the floor of the car, peeling off as the sun began to creep over the horizon.

Paige desperately wanted to ask where they were going. She noted that Gabriel was going well over a hundred miles per hour. Far faster than her car could ever go if it wasn't for whatever magic he was using.

After an hour or so of driving, Gabriel slowed to a reasonable eighty-five miles an hour. He looked at Paige through the rearview mirror.

"How much did you hear?" he asked.

"Nothing, " Paige lied quickly.

He eyed her coldly. She could only see his eyes in the mirror, but they were enough to scare her into silence. She suddenly had a whole bunch of information about Loki- Gabriel- and she had no idea what to do with it. He obviously was prepared to kill to keep his secret. Paige was willing to bet that his desire to keep his covert identity covert overrode his desire to keep her alive. Ignorance had always been her friend in cases like this.

"Keep it that way." Gabriel said coldly.


	12. Chapter 12: Gods and Angels II

**This is a super short chapter. It's a little on the dirty side. Some light Femslash and some non-con, depending on how you look at it. Personally, I'm still on the fence. Enjoy the short chapter, more to come soon. I'm trying to finish before I go on a hiatus in June, so updates are going to get much more frequent.**

After a few more hours driving, Gabriel pulled into a motel in Oregon.

He looked back at Paige.

"Get a room. One bed. If anyone asks, you're staying here alone."

Paige nodded, and then did as he bid.

When they dragged Jo into the motel room, Gabriel turned to the door. He locked all of the locks and started chanting a protection spell that Paige didn't recognize.

Turning from the feverish Gabriel, Paige looked back to Jo.

She had been in and out the entire car ride. When she did become conscious, she didn't seem to recognize Paige. She wouldn't speak, just look around warily then fall back into her coma.

Gabriel turned from his protection spell to the women on the bed. He walked forward, moving Jo's hair away from her face to better inspect her condition.

"Will she be ok?" asked Paige in a small voice.

Gabriel shrugged.

"She should be." He said. He touched her lightly and the scratches along her body faded away. He looked up at Paige, as if daring her to comment. Paige didn't, she simply wiped the hair away from Jo's forehead.

She was clammy. She shook as if she was fighting a fever. Paige hugged her around the shoulders, hoping that somewhere in there, Jo could sense her.

Gabriel sat in a chair at the small table in the room.

"Bacchus was transforming her." Said Gabriel. "She didn't want to kill her. She wanted to make her into one of her minions. Sex crazed, party monkeys would be the easiest way to describe them. Physically, she's fine. But it will take a while to purge the poison from her soul. She won't be the friend you know for a while."

"How long?" asked Paige.

"A day? A year? I really have no idea. " Said Gabriel disinterestedly.

"You can't do anything?" asked Paige.

"Anything more? No. I'm afraid not. I'm all fucking tapped out." He snapped. The lights flickered as his temper rose.

He ran his hand along his face as he calmed down.

"They can trace my powers every time I do something." He said, more composed. "I've already used more than is wise. Driving here. Killing Bacchus. Bacchus is kind of a big deal. People, other gods, will notice his death. They're probably out tracing the trail of my powers as we speak. If I had teleported, they definitely would have found me. That trace is very distinct. They would recognize it. So, for now, we lie low."

He took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry." Said Paige. "That I dragged you into this… I had no idea…"

Gabriel gave a humorless laugh.

"You didn't drag me into anything. I made a choice. I'm just now realizing that it might have definitely been a wrong one."

"So, what?" asked Paige, "What are you going to do now? Hide from your friends?"

Gabriel looked up at her as she said it. She suddenly realized how stupid she had been. That was what she overheard Bacchus say to him. Gabriel seemed to decide that she was the least of his problems at the moment.

"I've done it before." He said gently.

* * *

Paige began to doze off as the night crept in. She was starving, but she didn't dare ask Gabriel for food.

She fell asleep wrapped around Jo, both on the bed.

She woke with a start as Jo began to move. Jo let out a hungry moan, twisting and turning. Paige sat up and looked over at Gabriel.

Gabriel watched darkly.

"That's the Bacchanae inside her." He explained, watching Jo writhe on the bed with a disinterested air. "This is when Bacchus would hit her up with another dose of love juice. As it is, she's just going to have to ride out the high."

"Are we in any danger?" asked Paige, looking down at her.

Gabriel smiled.

"Physically, probably not." He said wryly, "Though you might want to give her some space. The side effects are… interesting."

As Gabriel spoke, Jo began to move once more. This time with more determination. Her eyes shot open.

She registered Paige's arms around her chest.

She brought her fingers up and placed them on Paige's arms. She wasn't trying to free herself from them.

Jo turned in Paige's arms, her eyes latching onto Paige's mouth. As Paige looked at her, she hardly saw any Jo that she recognized.

She wasn't possessed, but her eyes were glazed over, as if she was sleep walking. Although she was moving with much more insistence than she would if she were dreaming.

Jo wrapped her own arms around Paige, holding her tight. She leaned forward into the arch of Paige's neck and inhaled deeply.

Paige was washed in shivers as she felt the warm breath on her skin.

Paige started to pull away. This wasn't Jo. And this, not Jo, clearly only had one thing in mind.

"Jo," Paige started, "If you're in there…"

But Jo cut her off, her lips capturing Paige's. Paige was taken by surprise as Jo clung to her. They both sat for a moment in free fall, before Jo started to ask for more.

She circled her tongue around Paige's lips before curling delicately into her mouth.

Paige's entire body tingled in response. She felt a feeling that she hadn't experienced since John had died. A pull, somewhere deep inside her that she thought she had forgotten. A crazy desire to pull Jo closer all but overtook her.

She was spared the trouble, as Jo straddled her, pressing her back into the bed. Her tongue was swirling around Paige's. It was inviting her, begging her, to return the kiss.

"She is pretty much an orgy seeking sex hound right now," came Gabriel's amused voice, bringing Paige back into the present.

Paige pulled away from Jo's kiss. It was harder than she expected. Jo, undeterred, turned her attention to Paige's neck and collarbone. She was licking tantalizing little circles in Paige's skin.

"Jo," Paige begged, "This isn't you. Jo, I know you're in there somewhere, stop. Please stop. "

Jo didn't respond when Paige called her name. Paige tried to ignore the building in her stomach. Jo's hands found Paige's breasts. She cupped them firmly and began to massage in a perfect rhythm. The 'v' between her thumb and her forefinger was gently pinching Paige's nipples.

"Gabriel," Paige said, breathless from trying to push Jo off, among other things, "Help me."

"Are you sure you want me to?" asked Gabriel, smiling darkly at her from the chair. He was leaning back, watching them. Paige ignored the arousal in his expression. "I'm not hating the show."

"This isn't her," Paige pleaded, "She's strong Gabriel, but I don't want to hurt her."

Gabriel stood and easily pulled Jo off of Paige, holding her against him. Jo's grunts and moans of protest quickly became grunts and moans of a different sort.

She began to rub herself into Gabriel's crotch. Gabriel didn't pull away.

Jo turned her head to look over her shoulder at him.

Gabriel's eyes stayed open and on Paige as he let Jo wrap her lips around his. Unlike Paige, Gabriel returned Jo's touches. He skimmed his fingers over her front, grazing her breasts. More firmly, he spread his fingers and ran them up and down her thighs. One hand grabbed her from behind while the other disappeared into the front of her pants. Jo was being very vocal as she approved of this new turn of events.

Jo turned in his arms and began to slide herself against him, pressing her breasts into his chest. She stood so that one of Gabriel's legs was between her own as she started grinding herself against it, moaning louder each time she pressed her sensitive button against him.

Gabriel's hands came down around her again, scooping her up off the ground and against his own body alongside him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and dropped one of her hands from his neck to palm his package between them.

Gabriel released a grunt of pleasure. He turned Jo and plopped her on the bed, Paige scrambled off to the side to give them room, completely in shock of the events she was witnessing.

Jo broke from his lips as she squirmed under him, struggling with the buttons on his shirt in a hurry.

Gabriel looked up at Paige watching them, a complex emotion on his face.

Paige suddenly realized that her watching was turning him on, if the tent in his pants was any sort of indicator. Jo, however, seemed completely unaware of anything besides her overwhelming desire to push her body against anything warm with a pulse.

Jo had pushed Gabriel's shirt off his shoulders and was hungrily kissing his neck.

She scrambled to get him underneath her, pushing his shoulders but keeping her leg around his waist to keep him close. Once he was on his back, she straddled him, pressing herself against Gabriel's clothed erection. She was moaning with desperation. Her eyes were closed as she grinded over him. As she lifted her shirt over her head, she suddenly saw Paige again, sitting at the head of the bed.

Jo bit her lip and reached forward, trying to reach Paige's cheek. Paige looked down at Gabriel. He cocked one of his eyebrows at her and smiled knowingly. He patted the bed next to the two of them, both half naked and wrapped in each other's limbs.

The gravity of what they were asking hit Paige like a ton of bricks.

She stood, backing away from the two on the bed.

"No, I can't."

Jo seemed to forget about Paige as Paige left her immediate vicinity. Gabriel, however, kept his eyes trained on her, even as Jo's fingers discovered the waistband of his pants.

"You sure? It can be a lot of fun." Gabriel said.

"You can't be serious," Paige, breathed, "Gabriel, that isn't her, she can't control what she's doing."

Gabriel shrugged.

Paige needed to leave. She had to go somewhere. She was getting sick from watching this.

"You can't leave this motel room," Gabriel ordered, though the authority in his voice broke as Jo reached into his boxers.

Paige stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. She knew Gabriel was right, although, at the moment she wasn't sure which sounded worse, watching this or being killed by a vengeful god.

Jo pulled Gabriel out of his pants and fondled him. Gabriel's eyes rolled to the back of his head as Jo began to lick and suck him. He let out a long ragged breath as Jo shoved him fully into her mouth.

Paige ran past both of them on the bed and shut herself in the bathroom.

She cursed the cheap motel room walls. She could hear everything. Clothes hitting the floor, the bed moving and squeaking under their weight. Worst of all were the long, labored breaths. She heard each of them in turn rising, faster and faster, both crying out when they reached their peak.

Paige sat on the floor, with her arms wrapped around her knees.

Scared of so many things. Scared that her Jo, the old Jo, would never return. Scared that they would be discovered.

Scared of the way her mouth still tingled when she remembered Jo pressing her lips against her.


	13. Chapter 13: Gods and Angels III

**Hey, so here is another super short chapter. I know, I know, it could easily be tacked onto the previous chapter. That's just my lack of organization rearing its ugly head. Anyways, enjoy.**

* * *

After a few minutes of silence, Paige heard a knocking at the bathroom door.

"Let me in." said Gabriel. "No one is going to molest you. Ok, well," he corrected himself, "I'm not going to molest you at any rate."

Paige reached up from where she was sitting and opened the door. Gabriel smoothly entered and shut the door behind him.

Paige raised her eyebrows at Gabriel as she heard Jo's moans start up through the wall again.

"She is… how you might say, taking the matter into her own hands." he explained.

Paige wrinkled her nose and looked away from him.

"Don't be like that, gummy bear. My powers of observation tell me you have something you'd like to get off your chest."

"It isn't nice."

"Oh, well in that case, you probably shouldn't say anything at all then."

"What kind of angel are you? That was practically rape, Gabriel." Paige snapped in a whisper. Though there was no need, Jo was clearly not paying attention to anything they were saying.

"Not from where I was sitting, which is to say, pinned underneath her."

"You know what I mean." Paige continued, anger in her voice. "She couldn't control what she was doing. She was a virgin, Gabriel. I'm sure that isn't what she wanted her first time to be like."

Gabriel rolled his eyes impatiently.

"Is that what this boils down to? A virginity thing? She's still a virgin."

"Oh, what? Did you heal that too?" Paige asked, her tone venomous.

"No. I mean, I could, but I never really liked taking virgins. Messy." he gave a small shudder.

"You expect me to believe that, you 'rounded the bases' but didn't hit home?"

"I've always found the bases to be underrated."

Paige gave a disgusted snort of disbelief.

"She won't remember a thing." Said Gabriel, "You didn't seem so concerned when she was all up in your business." He tilted his head as his widened into a smile. "Are you a little jealous?"

"No! Gross." Retorted Paige, "I was caught off guard. You, however, seemed to know exactly what would happen. And you seemed more than happy to enjoy the ride"

Gabriel shrugged again.

"I'm not human." He said looking at Paige, "I never was. I look human," he touched his face and tucked his longish hair behind his ear, "I sound human. But I am very much something else. Something older than the human species itself. We don't see things the same way that you don't see things the same way humans would have just a hundred years ago. Jo wanted something and I gave it to her. She won't remember, she won't get pregnant. _I_ didn't drug her with this in mind. No harm, no foul."

"It was wrong, Gabriel." Said Paige, but in a tone that accepted that she wouldn't be able to change his mind.

She dropped the subject and sat, deliberately not looking at the angel who sat next to her on the floor.

"Sorry I ripped you out of a threesome." Said Paige after a moment of silence.

Gabriel chuckled.

"Threesome? That's just like a Wednesday for me."

"Can angels… you know."

"Have sex? Obviously." Said Gabriel.

"But should they? You wouldn't get in trouble or anything? I thought adultery was a sin."

"I don't know."

"I thought you were the one who brought the prophecies to Mohammad. You told the Virgin Mary of the messiah. You're the messenger of God, how can you, of all angels, not know?"

Gabriel sighed and adjusted his weight.

"That was a long time ago. Things have changed. A lot. The things I told them got repeated. And repeated. And repeated some more before anyone thought to write them down. We're talking a few thousand years of 'telephone' here. The cultures of the people of the time dictated a lot of what was recorded.

Besides, no one has heard from God in almost a thousand years. We don't know where he is."

Gabriel was looking at the ground as he spoke. He suddenly seemed to realize that he was talking out loud. He cast a glance at Paige. A very shocked looking Paige.

"I shouldn't have told you that." He said.

"Probably not," Paige agreed.

She rubbed her temples. Looking at the tile of the bathroom, trying to organize the overload of information she had just received.

"You're tired." He said, with a gentle tone. "I forgot that humans need to recharge."

"I'm fine" Paige insisted.

Her stomach rumbled, giving her away.

"Humans." Sighed Gabriel. "Needy needy needy. Sleep. I'll find a way to get you food"

As he said it, he reached behind him and grabbed the single, cheap towel off the rack. Paige pulled it over herself like a blanket.

"I'm not needy." Paige said, not minding that she sounded cranky and petulant, "I just found out that everything my Rabbi ever told me might be a load of crap and God is MIA. This is the normal, human, reaction to that."

Paige leaned against the bathtub. She looked drowsily out at Gabriel.

She had no idea what to make of him. One minute, he was a terrifying bully, the next he was saving her friend. One minute he was taking advantage of Jo, the next he was wrapping her in a towel and telling her to sleep.

He had healed her, but he had also told her to ditch her friend to die.

As Paige looked at him, despite all his flippancy and bravado, he looked just as lost as she felt.

He claimed that he didn't understand human emotions, but he could understand skepticism. He could understand frustration. He had clearly demonstrated that he could understand desire.

"Do you miss your brothers and sisters?" asked Paige, groggily.

"Go to sleep." Ordered Gabriel, reaching forward and touching Paige's temple. She thought she saw a glimpse of sadness across his features before her world went dark.

* * *

"Paige? Wake up. Are you OK?" Jo asked, shaking Paige awake.

"Jo?" asked Paige, fearing that Jo was going to pounce on her again. Then she remembered that Jo the sex zombie didn't talk. This was the old Jo, the real Jo was back.

Her concerned eyes peered into Paige's.

"Paige, talk to me. Why are you sleeping in the bathroom?"

Paige sat up, her neck aching from sleeping at a weird angle.

"You're alright." Said Paige, relieved as she looked up at Jo.

"Of course I am. What are you doing in here? Why are we in Oregon?"

Paige stood warily. Stretching her muscles as she did. God, she was hungry.

"Where's Gabriel?" Paige asked, mostly to herself.

"Who is Gabriel?" asked Jo, frustrated by Paige's slow response to her questions. The poor girl had woken up, alone in a strange motel room and found her only companion on the floor. Paige could see the fear mounting in Jo's eyes.

"Ummmm…" Paige cast around for a lie; "You got put under a spell by the demon while we were in Seattle. We – I- killed it. But you were under so bad that I drove you out of state and we crashed here for a couple of days."

Half-truths were usually the best bet. Jo considered the statement. She could guess that Gabriel would be less than thrilled if she told Jo about him and Bacchus.

"That explains why I don't remember anything. Did I hurt anyone? Did I do anything terrible?" Jo asked in a rush, "Why were you sleeping in the bathroom?" she asked again.

"No, you didn't do anything. You just slept. I felt sick last night, so I slept in the bathroom." Paige said quickly.

Jo looked at Paige skeptically, but didn't push the question further. Paige had never outright lied to her before.

As Paige walked out to the main room, she saw the single tiny table was laden with food.

"What's this?" asked Paige as she walked towards the display, her mouth watering.

"I don't know." Admitted Jo, but she had clearly already attacked the plate of waffles with a vengeance. "Some guy was here earlier, he said it was room service. I didn't even know that this place offered room service." Jo looked over the expensive delicacies, "Swanky room service."

Paige pulled a bowl of strawberries towards her. Munching on them, she sat on the motel bed with Jo, who had turned on the TV and was watching the news.

Paige analyzed her.

Jo didn't act any differently. She must have truly not remembered what she did while under the influence.

"Hey," said Jo, pointing at the screen, pulling Paige's attention back to the present.

Jo had pointed at a story about a disappearance in Sparta, Georgia.

"Looks good." Said Paige. She would be happy to put a few dozen states between her and Seattle.

* * *

Jo hopped in the shower as Paige began to pack her car.

As she slammed the trunk closed, she saw a familiar, smiling face looking back at her through the reflection.

"Gabriel." said Paige, turning around, relieved to see him.

"Hold your applause, please."

"We got a job in Georgia. Are you going to be OK?"

"I always am, honey." He said, "I've got those mooks running around in circles. It would be suspicious if I didn't show to help hunt down Bacchus' slayer. Luckily, no one really liked him very much. He was like the friend who throws a really awesome party but leaves your house trashed."

"You can always call me up if you need help," Paige offered.

Gabriel laughed cruelly at the idea of Paige protecting him.

"Remember? Tibet? Life as an ant? I'll be fine, Cagney, thanks." He said, "While we're on the subject, I'd be much obliged if you didn't tell Lacey about anything that happened while she was high on Bacchus juice. Including, but not limited to, my existence whatsoever. And by 'obliged,' I mean 'I'll rip your tongue out if you say a word'."

He backed away, lifting his eyebrow as he did.

"I'll be in touch." He said before disappearing into thin air.

* * *

Jo and Paige stopped at another motel on the way to Georgia. The car ride had been almost silent. Jo chalked it up to Paige feeling out of sorts from sleeping on the bathroom floor. It explained the strained look in her eyes and the creases along her young forehead.

"Is it just me," asked Jo, dropping her bag of knives and stakes on the floor as she walked into the generic room, identical to the one she had left that morning. "Or are you getting really sick of these?"

"Yeah, " said Paige, turning on the light.

"Two beds?" asked Jo, looking at the motel room. She looked questioningly back at her friend.

She furrowed her brow as she watched Paige shift uncomfortably.

They always shared a bed. Like sisters. Not that Jo had any, but still.

Jo liked having someone sleep next to her. They would lie side by side and talk into the darkness or snuggle up together. Maybe a little abnormal, but ever since Paige had shared her bed at the bar, Jo had just accepted it as standard. It was comforting.

"I figured I would sleep better if I had a bed to myself." Paige said, paying very close attention to the zipper on her bag.

"OK" said Jo, trying not to sound as hurt as she felt.

"I'm going to wash the car off me," Paige mumbled, pushing past Jo.

"OK" Jo repeated.

Though Paige had already shut the bathroom door.


	14. Chapter 14: Her Eyes Were Watching God

**Hey kids, so, this is a pretty drastic change from my previous publishes. It will come up later, sort of, if you don't see where I'm going with it now. **

**So, I always wondered about Gabriel's motivations for running away from heaven. In the monotheistic religions, Gabriel was the messenger of God, and therefore had a little more face-time with humanity than his siblings might have. I explored that facet a little in here. **

**This is such a huge variation because I'm (sort of) ****narrating from Gabriel's point of view, and Gabriel, not being a human, would obviously be different from my other characters. **

**I'll try to post again soon, and by popular request, I'll try to keep my chapters more short. I have fun writing out everything, but I don't want my readers to get bogged down in needless detail. **

**Read and review, even if you aren't my favorite little loyal readers. SprakleSparkle and Straight Edge Queen. I love the feedback. Even criticism. Actually, make that, especially criticism. If you think I suck, TELL ME. I might tell you to shove it up your ass, but I might also take it into account and try to improve. **

* * *

Gabriel never ceased to be amazed by humans.

They slept almost as long as they were awake.

He watched Paige roll over in her sleep without great interest. He simply had let his mind wander as he was in his true, spiritual state and wound up in her motel room.

The tiny blonde with the considerable sexual appetite had left. Gotten caught by her mother while the two were in Georgia and dragged back to whatever hole in the wall booze joint she had crawled out of. Paige had been relieved to see her go.

It was amusing, how seriously humans took the little relationships between each other. Between lovers, friends, families. Gabriel was always tickled by the intricate little politics of it all. The humans revolved their lives around these social ties, and yet they were so often cautious with them.

Paige had been acting weird since Jo had kissed her under the influence of Bacchus' love potion No.9. And the little virgin had noticed.

She didn't fully understand why, but she got that it had something to do with her black out. Paige, Gabriel noted, was not the best liar in the world when it came to her friends.

And she tried, so hard, to protect her relationship with her friend. She tried to keep whatever reaction she must have had when Jo, the sex zombie, attacked under wraps. As if it mattered. Humans worked so hard to keep the status quo, to keep everyone happy. Paige was afraid that Jo wouldn't want to be around her if she told her the truth.

That was one thing angels never got about humans. Sure, angels loved each other, but ultimately their relationships were subjective to their orders. Look how everyone had turned on Lucifer when he strayed from the beaten path. They didn't care about each other the way that humans did. No angel would die for another, just out of love. They would die for an order, but they would never sacrifice themselves simply for the sake of keeping another angel alive.

But these weird hairless monkeys would do it all the time. They rewrote the rules, they bent over backwards, and they orbited their entire existence around each other. Angels could never understand that.

Just look at how they had created heaven. It was solitary confinement up there. Angels argued that in order to create a perfect paradise, they could not allow them to interact, lest one soul's paradise overtake another's. But they didn't understand that humans' happiness was not about their own perfection, but a world shared with others.

Except for Gabriel. It had been his sacred duty to go between the humans and the angels. It had been his job to tell the humans in their own language and in their own logic what his father had wanted for them.

All his brothers and sisters must of thought he was such a fool for getting so involved in humans and their complicated little puzzles of social relationships. Of course, they never said it to his face, because he was an archangel and there was a pecking order, but it was clear that they looked down upon the way he was so caught up in their human lives.

If he was honest with himself, a lot of it revolved around his own envy. He wanted to know love like that. Friends who would sacrifice themselves just for him. Not for his message, not for his position in the army, but just because they loved him.

God had told him that as it is in heaven, so shall it be on earth. But God had created these humans with so much _love_.

Gabriel wondered if it was more his intention to be as it is on earth, so it shall be in heaven.

Not that anyone knew, of course. Their father had vanished, leaving them to take care of his little projects, without instruction or guidance. All they had were the prophecies that he laid out. Thousands and thousands of them.

Gabriel had abandoned his post a long time ago. He swore that he would never take up another of his father's missions.

Yet, he found himself in Paige's room.

* * *

The dust entered the traveler's eyes as he walked towards the stone home carved into a mountain. It was dark, far to dark for any reasonable man to be visiting.

As he walked in, he saw the three shapes on the floor. Casting out his senses, he identified the human he was looking for, in the far corner. Making sire that the first two figures were oblivious to noise and movement, he approached the third sleeping shadow.

Reaching out, he meant to touch the third, and kindly rouse her from her sleep. However, the third figure, a girl, a very young girl, was already awake; sitting up and staring at him. As he extended his arm to wake her, she slapped his hand away. Looking at her in the darkness, he was amused to see an angry, not scared, look on her face.

At all of twelve years old, the girl was just beginning to show the hints of womanhood. Tiny, tangerine sized breasts and an ever so slightly tapered waist gave way to gently sloping hips. Her cinnamon skin and dark features conveyed intelligence, and at the moment, a defiant challenge. She was not a girl who was about to be ruined without putting up a terrific fight.

"Miriam, do not fear me," said the man, "I am an angel of the Lord. I have a message to give to you."

The girl looked at him skeptically. Young, but not stupid.

The man stood to his full height and lighting rumbled outside on the clear night as he exposed his wings to her.

Her skepticism became awe as he crouched back down to her.

"You are to bear a child, a messiah. It is God's will." He told her.

"I cannot bear child," she said, in a surprisingly fragile voice. "I am a virgin until my wedding day."

"It will be a virginal conception. God has granted me the power to conceive the messiah without destroying your purity."

"Tonight? Now?" asked Miriam, panic in her voice, "But I am not wed. Please, my family will disown me should I be with child before my wedding night. My betrothed will have right to sever our wedding ties. Let me bear the child in a year, when I am wed."

"It is God's will that your faith be tested." The angel told her. "I will appear to your husband as well. His faith shall be tested too."

Miriam looked at her sleeping parents with fear and tears clear in her eyes. She would shame them endlessly. She was afraid of losing them, and losing Joseph. She was about to be very much alone and helpless.

"It is God's will," the angel repeated, a little more firmly, annoyed at her hesitation.

"I accept" said the girl, turning to him. The determination in her eyes overwhelmed the fear. The angel put his hand on her stomach. She felt warmth like she had never known, pour over her. As the angel turned to leave, she called to him.

"You are leaving?" the girl said, sounding crestfallen. "Will you not stay with me?"

The angel stopped in the doorway, surprised by her question. Surprised by the emotion in her voice. He paused as he considered the feeling that grew within him. Protectiveness, a desire to guide her and save her from the loneliness he knew she was to face.

"Yes." He said, "In one form or another, I will always be with you."

He turned from where he stood and sat on the floor with her, by her head. She smiled at his companionship and absently rubbed her flat stomach, already sensing the child that was growing there.

After a few moments, her eyes drifted to close.

God had not told him to stay with the girl after she had conceived the child, and the angel knew that any of his siblings would have left and consider him a fool for staying. Yet this angel could not pull himself away. He was infinitely impressed, confused and curious of the sleeping girl, whose life he had just changed.

* * *

The smell of blood reeked from the birthing room as the angel entered. The girl, her naked body slathered in blood from between her legs was crying in pain. Sweat clung to her face and small figure. The swell in her stomach was so uncharacteristic on such a small body, her legs and limbs still gangly and coltish, her body not yet holding fat the way an older woman's would.

Those around her were perplexed and worried as the girl tried again and again to expel the child from her body.

Her face broke into a strained smile as she saw her friend, her angel.

"Gabriel," she whispered, extending her hand towards him. He rushed to her. Kneeling by her head, he took her hand, bloody and filthy with the fluids of birth. "Gabriel, I am so sorry. I have failed. I cannot birth this child." She was crying openly now, "Gabriel. Tell him I'm sorry." She repeated over and over again.

Concern overtook him. When he was older, he would understand that it was not only concern for the fulfillment of the prophecy, but concern for the girl as well that drove him. A concern that neither his father, nor his siblings had warned him that he would feel.

"I'm dying, Gabriel," she said again, in a surprisingly strong voice, despite her tears. "I've been in labor for hours. This child will not come to pass."

"Birth is hard for all women," Gabriel assured her, "It will come to pass."

"No." the girl whispered, "This is worse, it is harder. I have asked them to cut my belly open and take the child that way. The women say that my body is as open as it will ever be, but the child will not come. Will God forgive me?"

The cause of the complication suddenly became crystal clear to the angel. Turning to those surrounding the girl, he ordered, "Out, get out."

They all began to shift, but hesitated before leaving the girl.

"Out." The angel commanded again, causing the earth to rattle and the sky to flash with thunder.

When everyone left, the angel turned back to Miriam. Her eyes were defeated. She was fading, he could feel her soul leaking from her body like water from a rag.

"Miriam," Gabriel ordered, shaking her," Miriam, you must be strong now. It is God's will."

It was a lie.

God had made no orders or predictions of the mother's welfare during child's birth. He probably would have ordered Gabriel to take the child through the stomach, but Gabriel refused to let the girl, his girl, die that way. It snapped the girl back into attention.

Gabriel rolled the sleeve of his tunic up, and slid his hand into her opening. Miriam squealed and shifted her weight, but the angel forced her still. He looked into her eyes, hoping that his need for her trust and cooperation was clear through his vessel. The girl, obediently, was still.

Gabriel kept reaching up, finally coming into contact with the layer of flesh that covered her birthing channel. Roughly and swiftly, he penetrated it, tearing the tissue.

The girl bit her lip at the pain, but did not cry out. She whimpered in relief as the baby again began to slide out of her with the next contraction.

After two contractions more, Gabriel guided the child, the boy, from between her legs.

"This is the messiah," said Gabriel, smiling as he handed the child to his mother. Miriam began to busy herself wiping the birth and blood off of the infant's face.

She leaned up and pressed her lips Gabriel's. It was a chaste kiss. Most likely, Gabriel reasoned, a result of the hormones of affection and warmth his father had given all mothers after birth.

Yet the kiss stuck with him. Warming his lips long after Miriam had pulled away and turned her attention from him to the messiah in her arms.

Gabriel left as the others began to filter back into the room with the mother, marveling over the miracle birth.

Gabriel left. Yet he found that he did not want to return to heaven.

Miriam, the girl he had been assigned to guide, had almost died because of an oversight. A virginal birth. As he looked back on it, he was angered by the carelessness.

Of course the child could not be born with the hymen still intact. For the sake of poetry, or perhaps simply to show his power, his father had almost cost the devoted girl her life. She trusted him to protect her. He had almost failed.

As the resentment coursed through him, he vaguely wondered why his father had created him to feel this way.

Why did he create this pain, and why did he force Gabriel, above all the other angels, to suffer it, alone?

* * *

Thirty years later, after not seeing her since the birth, Gabriel returned to Miriam as she cried a prayer for him.

"Gabriel," she choked through wet eyes. "Gabriel, has God abandoned us?"

Gabriel approached the now mature woman. Her skin was lined, yet they were the same bright eyes that peered out at him.

"They killed him, Gabriel," she wept, "They killed him, and I have never felt so alone in my life. You can heal him, I know you can. Please return my son to me. My only… " And she tried, without success, to stop the sob in her throat.

Gabriel's stomach felt as if it were in free fall. His skin felt as if it was dropped in ice water. He felt… empty and hopeless. Despair. Grief. A thousand emotions he never knew he would be forced to experience, and he wished would disappear.

He had known, as soon as the child was born, how he would die. And, as the angels explained it to him, it was all part of the prophecy. Every human must die. So, why should it matter _when_ they died? It was part of the plan, the blueprint their father had laid out for them.

Yet, he looked into the mother's eyes and felt… empty. The prophecy was empty. A point to be proven, a trial to be fulfilled. And for what?

He was in the middle of an endless war, and this woman, Miriam was one of the casualties. Didn't they know that when they killed the son, the mother died as well?

"It is God's will." Gabriel repeated to the childless mother.

The words did not soothe her the way his father had promised him they would.

Gabriel found little comfort in the words as well.

* * *

"Wait," said the man in the caves, six hundred years later. "Is this all God has to tell us? Are you leaving? Will you not stay?"

Gabriel forced himself to remain distant. The prophet looked at him with hope in his eyes. Gabriel refused to acknowledge the feeling in him. The protectiveness that he had felt before, he killed. He was done. Done with these messages, these errands. Done with his father's orders and his siblings' obedience.

Didn't they know that it didn't matter? That they were destroying their own creations?

"No, I shall never return to this earth as an angel. " Gabriel replied, detached, "You are to be my last prophet."

With that he stretched his wings and flew away. Yet he did not return to heaven.

Never again would the archangel appear in heaven.


	15. Chapter 15: Valley of the Angel

**Hola, Jovenes. **

**(that's "hi kids" in spanish.) I feel like it has been a really long time since I've updated. Yeah, so this story is _not _going to be done by mid June. Sorry. Paige still has quite a journey ahead of her. So, yeah, this chapter is more my standard style. Sit back, relax. Maybe microwave some popcorn, I don't pretend to know your routine. I have another Author's Note at the end of this chapter, so lucky you! Stay tuned, kids.**

* * *

Paige sat in her car outside the bar in the Pennsylvania town. She knew that there was another player, and she didn't want to step in on anyone's job. She would move on once she saw for certain that the hunter was who she thought it would be.

As an overweight biker and his girlfriend moved away from the window, Paige saw her.

Jo was in her element. Hustling pool, she was bent over the table to take a shot, giving her opponent - a cocky fraternity type- a great view.

When the pair was in Sparta Georgia, digging up the bones of an autistic teen who committed suicide in 97, Ellen had shown up. She grabbed Jo by the arm and dragged her into the car. Ellen couldn't even look at Paige.

Initially, Paige had been relieved that Jo was off with her mother. It was for the best, she decided. Things were getting very uncomfortable the longer they travelled together.

She felt the memory as if it were a third presence wherever they were; heavy, and humid in the air. She couldn't tell Jo what had happened. For one, it would make things uncomfortable for both of them. Jo was pretty open about sex and sexuality, if they had kissed while she was drunk or something, Jo would be the first to laugh it off and forget about it. No, the problem was that Jo completely blacked out everything that had happened. It was easier for Jo to be unconscious to explain the memory lapse. If Paige admitted that Jo was aware enough to single her out and feel her up, Jo would wonder what else she had been lucid enough to do.

Which brought Paige to point number two: Gabriel. The rebel angel had specifically warned Paige to never reveal anything about his existence to Jo. He had silenced her before when they were in Oregon when Paige had been about to tell Jo about him, Paige wasn't sure that she could even physically say his name to an outsider at all. Not to mention the fact that Gabriel, unlike Paige, had very few qualms about letting the sexual Jo zombie have her way with him. And while Gabriel considered the entire episode to fall into a grey area of morality, Paige was pretty sure that Jo would agree with her and be a bit less forgiving.

And the third point was one that made Paige so squeamish and confused that she chose not to think about it at all. Or at least as little as possible.

Her body felt something. Before Gabriel had interrupted them, Jo's body was demanding something from Paige that her own body seemed eager to give. If Gabriel hadn't been there, Paige was sure that she would let Jo do just about anything to her.

Paige shook the thought out of her head.

She wasn't gay. She wasn't even bi. Jo was her best friend in the entire world.

A kiss is a kiss and friction is friction. It wasn't love, or even lust, that made Paige's stomach swoop when she remembered Jo's hands, so insistent. It was simple biology. That coupled with the fact that they had literally been together 24/7 made Paige feel like it could be something else.

Paige watched Jo through the bar window for a little longer.

She missed her.

Paige hadn't had a lot of friends before. Ellen, Jo and Bobby were her closest things to family, friends or anything like it. But Ellen didn't call her anymore and neither did Bobby. Paige couldn't blame them. They had been a unit before she even came into the picture. Paige had come along and screwed up everything.

She had fooled herself into thinking that she belonged to them. She had fooled herself into thinking that she belonged to anyone. Ellen and Jo were literal family. Bobby loved Ellen, and knew her long before he knew Paige. When the going got tough, Paige was the one to get broken off.

Her parents were dead, her son was dead and any friends she had before she started hunting were like dreams from someone else's life.

Paige was alone.

There were infinite benefits to being alone as a hunter. Efficiency, speed, less attention. She wouldn't have to worry about protecting anyone else. She wouldn't have to worry about disagreeing with anyone else about how to go about the hunt. It was better, easier, to hunt alone. Paige reminded herself of this everyday, though some silent car rides and lonely meals made it harder for Paige to stomach the empty words.

"Ah, unrequited love. Like Romeo and Juliet. If Romeo was a chick and Juliet ate carpet."

"Hullo, Gabriel," said Paige, turning warily to the angel sitting in the seat beside her. Ever since she had met him in Seattle, Gabriel took much pleasure in appearing when he thought that she was least expecting it.

Paige had been initially happy to see the angel when he would appear. Socialization with locals was not as satisfying when most of her end of the conversation was a series of lies. She relished in the company of someone that she could discuss monsters, beasts and hunts with.

However, as it became a habit of his, her mixed feelings for him resurfaced. He was not _good_. He clearly had very little interest in saving innocent lives and had a huge ethical grey area in how he manipulated people.

Yet, for whatever reason, he seemed interested in Paige's life. Not necessarily her well being, since he would tease and ridicule her whenever he appeared, but her physical life, at least, would earn a reaction from him.

When she was hunting a Wendigo in Colorado, she had been sure that her life was over as she stared down the teeth of the beast. Gabriel intervened and cut it's head off with a blade that he kept in his pocket. He would have, and had done so in the past, just let anyone else become the Wendigo's next meal.

He still refused to answer her questions, though. If she started asking him why he was there or where he was going, he would usually either cut her off or subject her to a particularly malicious prank.

As usual, she turned him with a guarded air.

"You're the one who sent me here. Clearly it is under control." She said, slightly irked, sensing that Gabriel was taking advantage of his fluid moral code to manipulate her.

"Oh, c'mon. You really think that I would send you across the country for a salt and burn that a toddler could handle?" Asked Gabriel, "I want to get the band back together. "

"Jesus, Gabriel," Paige said, exasperated "High handed, even for you. "

"You miss her." He said.

"Why do you care?" asked Paige, but she sighed when she saw him furrow his brow the way he usually did when she started asking questions.

"Just go in, tell her that you want to lick her, and go back to hunting together again." Gabriel said.

"No, Gabriel, don't be crude. I'm out of here." Paige said, bending down to shift gears.

Gabriel gave her a cruel smile, then vanished. Apprehension washed over her. She had seen that mischievous grin before. It usually appeared when he was about to make Paige do something she didn't really want to do.

As she looked down at her hand on the gear, she saw that her hand had magically gotten a manicure. Her usual naked nails were painted a fire engine red. Red, to match the dress that she had definitely not been wearing before. She took her foot off the brake pedal and saw, with trepidation, her feet were inside a pair of obscene "fuck me" heels that, predictably, were red. Her hair, as well, was not in it's usual pony tail, but in an elaborate bun with suggestive tendrils framing her face.

Suddenly, though not surprisingly to Paige, the shoes jerked themselves through the car door as it swung itself open. They were pulling towards the bar.

"Fuck, Gabriel" muttered Paige.

As the shoes pulled her reluctant body to the bar, Paige let her hair down and started sliding some of the gaudy jewelry off of her in a futile attempt to tone down the dramatic look. Gabriel, most likely on purpose, had dressed her a an elaborate prostitute. Paige began dropping the diamond bracelets and earrings in the parking lot, as the shoes carried her, stopping inches away from the door.

Taking a deep breath, Paige slipped into the bar, hoping to avoid too much attention. She failed, miserably, as the ever-dramatic Gabriel gave her a back-less red dress with a hemline that barely covered her ass.

Paige's eyes found Jo's, and she gave a weak smile. Jo broke out into a wide grin, clearly tickled by Paige's attire.

Abandoning her game with the frat kid who had no idea how lucky he was, Jo made her way over to Paige.

"What the hell? Are you possessed?" joked Jo, as she wrapped her arms around Paige.

"You would think." Said Paige with a warm smile for her friend. Her heels made her tower over Jo, so Paige had to look down. Paige looked over Jo's head at the pool table. "Did I interrupt?" she asked.

"Nah. It's hardly any fun when they just give it away like that one." Said Jo, nonchalantly. She waved to the bartender for drinks then guided Paige to a circle booth in the back of the bar.

By the time they sat, the bartender already came over with their shots and beer. Jo had ordered tequila shots, and Paige almost laughed at the familiarity of it.

They clinked their glasses and drank them down. Paige winced at the bite, but Jo smacked her lips and twisted open her beer, lazily tossing the cap to the side.

Jo looked at Paige for a moment. She was quiet, which was so different from the Jo that Paige had known only a few months before.

"You never returned my calls." Jo stated flatly.

"I'm sorry." Paige said, looking at the unopened bottle in her hand.

"I missed you." Jo continued.

Paige looked up at her. She felt heat behind her eyes as they welled up with tears despite herself.

"I missed you too." Said Paige.

Jo nodded and smiled weakly.

"I heard about the Roadhouse." Said Paige. "I'm so sorry, Jo. I know that place was practically your home. Is it true that Ash is...?"

"Yeah." Said Jo. And they broke into a somber silence again.

Paige hastily wiped the tears away from her eyes and Jo signaled to the bartender for another round of shots. Four months ago, before Jo had kissed her, before Ash had died, before Ellen hated her, Paige would have laughed and refused the shots, reminding Jo that she couldn't hold her liquor.

But they had happened. And Paige wanted to get drunk. She wanted to forget about everything that had happened. She wanted to forget about the weirdness between her and Jo. For one goddamned night she didn't want to be clouded in darkness. She didn't want the memories of everyone she loved and lost to be circling her.

"One more round after this" Paige told the bartender when he dropped off their drinks. Jo gave her a quizzical look, but lifted her shot in salute.

"To Ash." Said Jo.

"To Ash." Affirmed Paige.

* * *

"Who would have ever guessed that I would be the sober one?" an amused Jo pondered as she walked Paige to her motel room.

Paige's giggles were infectious, and Jo was laughing along as an uncharacteristically bubbly Paige rambled.

Paige had always had a sense of humor, but she had never been giggly. Not incoherent, unstoppable giggly.

Jo dropped Paige on the bed, sliding her shoes off her, with some difficulty as Paige was wiggling and giggling playfully on the bed. Paige grabbed a pillow from the bed and hugged it to her body, looking up at Jo, drunken sincerity etched along her face.

"You're my best friend." Paige assured her.

"You're my best friend too," Jo said with a smile, "I love you, Paige."

Paige closed her eyes contentedly and leaned back, on the bed, the pull off the alcohol dragging Paige into unconsciousness.

Jo felt a little guilty, as she thought about taking advantage of her friend's drunken state. Paige was so out of it, Jo was sure that she would answer every question Jo asked with the utmost sincerity.

Jo hated the idea that Paige had lied to her, but Paige had acted drastically different since Jo's black out. Jo grappled with how much she wanted to know. She had scoured Seattle newspapers, obituaries, looking for something, anything, to point her in the direction of what she had done that night.

Unfortunately, Seattle was a big city. Plenty had happened. Though Jo couldn't make a clear connection to herself in any of the instances. But Paige knew. And Jo was not above wheedling information from her intoxicated friend.

Jo slid onto the bed next to Paige.

"Paige," Jo whispered kindly, trying not to wake her from her sleepy, drunken stupor, "Paige." Jo tried again.

Paige let out a sleepy moan, acknowledging that she heard her.

"Paige. We're best friends, right?" Jo asked.

"Mmmmhmmmmm" said Paige.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" she pressed.

Paige blinked open a bleary eye. Jo was suddenly afraid that she had gone too fast. Afraid that Paige had guessed what she was doing and was going to shut herself off.

"I don't like lying to you." Paige admitted.

"Good. I would never lie to you." Jo said, sincerely. "I know that you know the truth about Seattle."

Paige bit her lip. She shook her head. She still didn't want to tell Jo the truth. Jo wished that she had more tequila in the motel room. But at least she was getting somewhere. Paige had admitted that she had been less than honest previously.

Jo tried to check her eagerness as she leaned forward to Paige.

"Paige, " Jo pleaded, "I would never keep that kind of secret from you."

Bingo.

"It was the spell." Paige gushed sloppily, the pent up guilt washing out of her. "You weren't you. You were doing all these things. I was scared, Jo. "

Ice filled Jo's blood at Paige's words. The confirmation that she had done something, been responsible for hurting someone made the bottom of her stomach drop out.

"Why were you scared of me, Paige?" asked Jo.

"You kissed me." Paige said, completely seriously.

Jo paused for a moment. That wasn't the answer she had been expecting at all. She had been expecting mass murder, terrorism, torture. A kiss?

"And?" Jo pressed.

"You're a really good kisser."

Paige was drunk, but she wasn't dumb. If Jo had hurt somebody, Paige would tell her that first. Jo let out a relieved chuckle. A kiss?

That relieved chuckle grew into a real laugh. Of course Paige, silly, surprisingly innocent, Paige would be embarrassed by a kiss. A "good" kiss. Jo clutched at a stitch in her side. Peals of laughter rattling her body. Paige watched her, her brow furrowed, confused by Jo's reaction.

"Oh, Paige, I thought it was so much worse. " Jo said, reassuring her friend.

"No. Jo. You're a really good kisser." Paige tried again to articulate her thoughts and concerns despite the haze of alcohol and Jo's laughter.

"Oh, honey." Jo said, reaching out and touching Paige's shoulder. "Honey, it's ok. I'm sorry I kissed you. Clearly, my mad tongue skills have rattled you. It's over now."

"I was afraid it would be weird," Paige said, sheepishly. An endearing blush creeping into her features.

Jo cupped Paige's chin in her hands. She leaned forward and gave a gentle kiss to her uncomfortable friend. She broke away, rubbing her thumb in a tiny circle along Paige's cheek.

"See? Just a kiss. You don't think something as little as that would get rid of me, did you?"

Paige leaned forward and pressed her lips back against Jo's. They lingered there for a moment, then Paige pulled back.

The sleepy drunkenness had returned in her heavy eyes and she fell back against the pillows.

"You're my best friend. I missed you so much," the fading Paige mumbled in Jo's general direction.

"I love you, Paige." Jo said with a smile, folding the blankets over her so that Paige was wrapped in a cocoon of bedding.

* * *

Paige was laying in a hangover coma of suffering.

Her head was pounding and the room was rocking mercilessly. Paige turned, sending a new wave of nausea across her foggy brain, and saw Jo, curled up along her back. Jo's forehead was against Paige's shoulder.

Gingerly, Paige slid from the blankets; a layer of sweat coated her skin. Standing carefully, she made her way to the bathroom.

She regretted looking in the mirror as soon as she did it. Her hair was greasy and matted, her skin was a yellow tinge and her breath was no picnic.

She turned on the water to the shower and stepped in once she was sure that she was not going to be sick. The warm water washing over her was a heavenly dream. She closed her eyes as she leaned into the stream, just standing for a moment.

"I have a bone to pick with you."

Paige jumped a mile in the air, but her brain protested, causing her to hold the shower wall for support as fresh waves of dizziness and a strong desire to vomit crashed into her.

Giving an annoyed sigh, Gabriel reached into the shower and touched Paige's forehead, healing her hangover.

Paige welcomed the relief. As she was about to open her mouth to thank him, she suddenly became acutely aware of her nakedness. She quickly tried to cover herself with her hands, as the shower had a glass door instead of a curtain that she could hide behind.

Gabriel had already gotten an eyeful, and seemed completely unimpressed.

"Can you hand me that towel, please?" Paige asked, turning off the water.

"No." Gabriel said, coldly, leaning against the sink so that he was facing her. His arms were crossed over his chest and he seemed to be in no mood to humor her modesty.

Paige glanced at the bathroom door, remembering the thin walls of highway motels.

"Please." Said Gabriel, "You think this is my first time? Your little friend in there can't hear anything."

"How can I help you, Gabriel?" Asked Paige, matching the iciness in his tone.

"What, exactly, did you tell Barbie out there?" he asked.

Paige searched her brain, trying to piece together the fuzzy memories of the previous night.

"I told her about her kissing me," Paige answered honestly.

Gabriel made an impatient, 'go on' gesture with his hands.

"That's it." Paige said, scrunching her forehead as she remembered.

"Nothing about Bacchus?" he asked.

"No, I didn't mention him by name, no. "

"Me?"

"Nothing."

Gabriel pursed his lips. Paige had mistakenly believed that he would be happy to know that the two important secrets he had asked her to keep, were, in fact, still secrets.

"I am gone for a night. All the shit hits the fan."

"She doesn't know anything." defended Paige.

"The one thing I asked you to do." Gabriel retorted. "Throw in some tequila and suddenly the floodgates open."

"They're hardly 'open.'" Paige said, refusing to back down, though the malicious gleam in his eyes warned her to stop. "And don't you stand there like you're doing me a bunch of favors. I never asked for this 'guardian angel' crap you keep trying to pull on me. I was fine before you came along."

"You were dead before I came along."

"Exactly!" Paige yelled.

Gabriel looked taken aback by her response, and the silence hung in the air between them. However, the surprise quickly faded to a curt expression.

"Do not presume to know what I am and what I do. Do not try and guess why I do it. I have wings, sweetheart, but I am not a fucking pet parakeet."

"Clearly. You're a high-handed tyrant. Fuck off, Gabriel. I don't need this."

Gabriel flicked his wrist and the tile beneath Paige in the shower felt like it was pulled out from underneath her like a rug. She lost her balance and fell, blinded by pain as she hit the wall of the shower with her head.

Gabriel paused for a moment, and seemed to struggle with himself. Paige reached up behind her ear and drew back bloody fingers. When she looked up to where the angel was standing, he was gone.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed. Lots more Gabriel in the next few chapters. **

**Anyways, so, I have decided to publish a series of 'one shots' featuring John and Paige's relationship in the itsy bitsy time they spent together between their hunt in Minnesota and Bobby's place (chapters 5/6.) What is that? Fan fiction fan fiction? Anyways, it's excessive. But I had a lot of fun writing it and if you were interested in John and Paige's relationship I hope you take a few seconds to check it out. **

**They range from sweet to unapologetic smut.**

**I want to publish them because, this whole fan fic started as my OC and John, so I have a lot of material of just the two of them together, and the very essence of their relationship I find fascinating. There are a lot of complex elements there. There is a "teacher/ student" element and, of course, the "age" factor. But there is also simply the fact that they are two people who, in normal circumstances, would not even know each other, let alone embark in a sexual relationship together. Plus the "love" element. Paige's only real experience with "love" or something like it was with the kid who knocked her up in college. John, though more sexually experienced, is new to "love" after Mary as well. Their relationship is almost like a "frankenstein" monster of circumstances and sex, but it really has an impact on both of them.**

**When John left Paige the voicemail, he said, "I thought if it wasn't the same, it wasn't love" and these stories explore that.**

**But, as Paige started to kind of grow in my mind, I minimized a lot of the her and John scenes simply for space sake. I mean, I think they're lovely, but ultimately, John is a footnote in Paige's journey. **

**So, please check them out. They'll be titled, "The Last Student: Directors Cuts." The story ID is : 8142208**

**Thanks for reading (please leave a review. please? pretty please?)**


	16. Chapter 16: The Hunting Age

**Hi kids,**

**So, this is going to be another long hunt. BUT this one is riddled with juicy goodness, so you won't be disappointed. Part two and three to appear either tonight or tomorrow morning.**

**Read and review, please!**

* * *

"Gabriel?" Paige called, feeling increasingly foolish. It was well after dark, and she was completely alone in a park in Maryland.

A book of angel lore was open beside her. She had read that angels could actually hear prayers. Whether or not the angel responded to them was entirely up to their fancy.

One problem in the book was that it wasn't terribly clear _what _constituted a prayer. Paige wasn't sure if just calling his name would work or if she would have to find some elaborate and degrading ritualistic prayer. Then, as she thought about it, he probably wouldn't respond unless she did so. The angel had an ego, and Paige had to be prepared to cater to it.

She hadn't seen or heard for the angel in almost four months, not since their argument in Pennsylvania. At first, Paige thought that it was because Jo was always at her side since they started hunting together again. But as the weeks wore on, Paige started giving herself intentional time alone, away from her friend just for him to visit. Of course, in the past, he had easily found ways to talk to Paige and still evade Jo.

Paige was pretty sure she'd crossed some sort of line in their last argument. She had probably rubbed his feathers the wrong way or insulted his pride. She'd told him to "fuck off" multiple times before and he'd never respected those requests, so she figured that she had said something else to offend him.

She sighed and then got onto her knees, placing her hands in a steeple position. As she lowered herself, her knees squished in the wet grass. She hoped that wherever he was, Gabriel was getting a good kick out of watching this.

"Gabriel, I want to talk to you." Paige called out into the darkness.

Nothing.

Paige rolled her eyes imagining Gabriel's mocking. Watching her make a fool out of herself, toying with her pride. She lowered her forehead to the ground and recited the only prayer she remembered from Hebrew school. Still, silence.

Sufficiently soggy and itchy from the cold, wet grass, Paige stood. She was getting annoyed at him now. For weeks, he had been popping up in her car, her room her shower, with no invitation whatsoever. Now, when she called for him, he was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm sorry!" she yelled, irritated, into the darkness. "I wanted to say 'I'm sorry'!"

She gathered what little dignity she had left and looked one last time around the park to see if he would materialize, that mean glint in his eyes and some sort of lesbian quip up his sleeve.

He shoulders fell as nothing happened. She reluctantly trudged back towards the market she had used as an excuse to get away from Jo.

She didn't want to acknowledge the real reason that she was praying for him to visit her: Paige was starting to get worried.

* * *

"Anything new?" Paige asked, dropping a bag of Red Bull and Skittles on the table next to Jo.

"Yeah, I've discovered that I can sleep with my eyes open." Snapped Jo, reaching gratefully for her energy drink.

Paige grimaced as Jo chugged it down, taking a sip of her own black coffee.

Paige pulled what Jo was looking at towards her; Jo gratefully let her and leaned back against her chair, rubbing her eyes.

Paige looked at the books in front of her, then at the article clippings that she had pinned to the wall.

This demon was in Washington D.C.

A quick call with Rufus (Bobby and Ellen still weren't talking to them) confirmed that when the Winchesters opened the gates of Hell, more than a few demons broke loose, wrecking havoc on the world.

Paige had also learned that Azazel was dead. Killed once and for all by the Winchesters. The past four years of her life she spent preparing herself to take the thing down and she was elbow deep in a salt and burn in Kentucky. She missed her shot.

Paige chided herself for that thought. The demon was dead. That was what mattered. But the resentment was there, lurking in the back of her mind. Illogical, immoral and just plain mean, but it was there.

Azazel aside, the outbreak of demons meant that it was all hands on deck for the hunters. Paige and Jo had gotten wind of a demon in D.C. and headed east to tackle it.

Paige looked at the article clippings.

Politicians. Not high profile ones, but speech writers, research aides, PR professionals were dropping like flies around the capital.

There were no racial, gender or even partisan divides among the victims, in fact, the only thing connecting them was their profession and their cause of death.

The skin on their bodies had been boiled off.

Jo stood and began to walk the wall where they had clipped the obituaries. She began to count off the victims.

"Steven Hart, died three weeks ago, profession: speech writer for Congressman James. Ella Burke, died last week, profession: head of media relations for Senator Kerry Thatcher, Curtis Grey, died on Tuesday, profession: PR rep for Governor Hilda Forrest, Julian McBride, died Wednesday, profession: PR rep for Nathan Frank."

Paige was typing on her computer, looking up records connecting any of these people. Jo aimlessly walked around the room.

Jo was restless. They had spent the week doing research, mostly holed up in the motel room. While Paige seemed to have a higher stamina for marathon research, Jo would get antsy. Jo was the better fighter of the two. She was faster and her instincts were more attuned. Paige was stronger, mostly by virtue of her being several inches and about twenty pounds heavier than her, but she would never take on Jo.

They complemented each other nicely, though times like these, when their strengths were clearly at odds with each other, made them both a little irritable. Jo's nervous energy was rubbing off on Paige while Paige's meticulous and seemingly slow research frustrated Jo to no end.

"Whoa." Paige said after about an hour. Jo had long since retired to lying on the bed, tossing her father's knife at the wall, motel room deposit be damned.

"In '07 all three of these people were in the same committee." Paige read off the document on her laptop screen. "It ultimately failed. It was supposed to be a bipartisan measure to increase literacy rates."

"It failed?" asked Jo, standing and reading over Paige's shoulder.

"It just kind of fell apart. " Paige said as she continued reading, "wait, there was an investigation into the committee."

"For what?" asked Jo.

"Corruption."

* * *

Jo and Paige waited outside the exclusive restaurant bar. Both wearing designer dresses and heels, the girls blended nicely with the gaggle of other young women, texting and talking amongst each other, each trying to snag a wealthy boyfriend and an expensive night on the town.

"Jesus, this is bullshit," Jo grumbled, annoyed to be waiting in line. She grabbed Paige's wrist and dragged her to the front, the large bouncer barely looked up from his phone.

"Hi," Jo all but purred, sliding her slender body closer to him under the pretext of trying to be heard over the crowd.

"Sorry, girls, back of the line." He said, bored by Jo's advances.

If Jo was at all put off by this, she didn't show it. Paige saw her slip a twenty into her palm that she gently placed into the bouncer's hand.

"It's really cold outside," Jo pouted, "I am so silly I didn't think to put on a longer dress. Can we go inside to warm up?"

The bouncer looked at the cash in his hand, then smiled up at Jo as he slid it into his pocket.

"Sure, honey," he said. Jo broke into a satisfied grin. "Once it's your turn. From the back of the line."

"Ok," Jo said, dropping the sex kitten act, "What do we have to do to get in?"

" You really think that you deserve to get in before all these other girls?" the bouncer asked, getting annoyed, "You are no different than any single one of them. "

"I am nothing like them." Jo asserted.

The bouncer raised his eyebrows, bored. Jo was clearly trying his patience. Jo cast around for something to impress the bouncer and get inside. They were losing time and she refused to stand out there with the rest of those insufferable, spoiled girls with trust funds and their daddy's cars.

She turned and grabbed Paige by the back of the head, clamping her lips against hers. She ran her fingers through Paige's hair and gave an exaggerated moan, playing up the porn worthy girl on girl act.

Jo broke away and turned her attention back to the bouncer, raising her eyebrows, challenging him.

"Well, that's a horse of a different color," he admitted, pulling aside the velvet rope and allowing them into the bar.

"Can you, maybe, give me a heads up next time you're going to do that?" asked Paige, blushing furiously behind her.

Jo smiled and shook her head.

"Sorry, spur of the moment thing, but it worked, right?" Jo asked.

"I guess," Paige mumbled, touching her lips.

"Ok, so," Jo said, moving on, "This guy, Reid Vance, is the only one who was on the committee who hasn't had a staffer get attacked, right?" asked Jo.

"Yeah," said Paige, pulling up a photo of him from her phone. "We need to get close to him and his staff. Try and stop the next attack before it happens. I'm pretty sure I know what it is, but I want to watch for a while and be sure. This is a one shot deal, we can't afford to screw up."

Jo nodded. They entered the ornate bar. Men in business suits were surrounded by women just like Paige and Jo. Young, designer clad and desperate to get something from the wealthy and powerful men. Paige saw Reid Vance sitting at a table with several of his staffers, young men and women with their iphones out and papers on the table, each discussing work. Paige nodded Jo over to him. The girls began to make their way to the table.

"Sophie?" came a voice from behind Paige, making them both jump. "Sophie Glassman?"

"I gotta get out of here," Paige muttered into Jo's ear. Jo turned around, surprised and startled.

"Sophie," came the voice again, grabbing Paige's elbow. "Sophie, that has to be you."

Paige shot Jo a look, Jo took the cue and sauntered past Reid Vance's table, smiling in satisfaction as she felt his eyes on the short hem of her dress. She was pleased that this would be so easy.

* * *

"Sophie, I don't blame you for not wanting to talk to me again," said the girl who had grabbed Paige by the arm. "I have so much shit to apologize for."

Paige heaved a deep sigh.

"Hi Stephanie." She said. "It's been a really long time."

* * *

Paige Garcia: Hey,_ I got to bail. I'll tell you later. Not in danger or anything. Can you handle Vance?_

Jo Harvelle: Easily_ ;). U ok? That was weird. Check in by 12. _

Stephanie Miklos sat across from Paige at the twenty-four hour diner down the street from the bar. Stephanie was staring at her coffee.

Paige was irked that she had been interrupted in the middle of a big hunt, but Stephanie had been persistent. Paige had little choice but to go with her, away from the bar and hope Jo could handle tailing Vance.

Paige sighed, of course Jo could handle herself. Paige was just starting to feel like she was sitting on the bench of all the major hunts; first Azazel and then this demon.

She tried to not let her impatience show as she sat across from Stephanie who had yet to bring up why she needed to talk to her so badly.

Stephanie had been right, Paige hadn't wanted to talk to her ever again. Paige was mildly surprised that Stephanie had wanted to talk to her. They had ended on far from pleasant terms four years ago.

"Soph, I'm so sorry." Stephanie finally said, looking up at Paige teary eyed. "I'm so sorry for the things I did and said. I'm so sorry."

"It's ok, Stephanie," Paige assured her, "I'm sorry too."

Rather than comforting her, this caused Stephanie to choke up on her own tears again. Paige glanced uncomfortably around the diner as Stephanie started a new wave of tears.

"It's not Ok. It is so far from Ok." She said, looking up at Paige, "I know he ruined your life, just like he ruined mine."

Paige should have expected Stephanie point and scream with a big neon sign at the elephant in the room, but she had hoped they could get through this without mentioning him.

"Steph, we really don't have to talk about this." She said, looking at the paper placemat in front of her.

"I _know, _Sophie. I know what he did."

Paige didn't reply, still looking at the table and not at Stephanie.

"He did it to me too." She said. When Paige still didn't look up, Stephanie wiped her eyes and continued. "We graduated, and we were going to get married, " she gave a dark laugh as she said that, "So I moved out here with him when he got that job. I got a cold. A tiny little cold and I went to the doctor who asked me if I might have any STDs. I mean, how could I? I had only ever been with Spencer, you know? So I said 'no.' But he ran the test anyways."

Stephanie's eyes welled up again as she reached over and held Paige's hand.

"He ruined my life. I know what he did to you. I know how he ruined you too."

Paige crinkled her forehead. Yes. Spencer had changed her life. Every way till Sunday her life was different since that night he pulled her into his dorm room. Ever since he kissed her, and had sex with her as the music from the party downstairs blared. Ever since her best friend's boyfriend had gotten her pregnant, Paige's life had become unrecognizable from the nineteen year old freshman that she once was.

But as far as she knew, Stephanie didn't know that she'd had Abraham. Stephanie didn't know about the fire.

"Sophie," Stephanie continued understandingly as she looked at Paige's confused reaction, "I tested positive, too."

"What?" asked Paige.

"I have HIV, too. " she said, crying once more.

"Oh, Stephanie," Paige said, reaching forward to comfort her, "I'm so sorry."

"See?" asked Stephanie, "See why I'm sorry? I know now. Sophie, I know that he raped you."

"Steph," said Paige hesitantly, "I'm so sorry. I'm not positive."

"When was the last time you got tested?"

Paige had been tested for everything when she got home, when she found out she was pregnant.

"After," Paige said softly.

"You never said, 'rape'" Stephanie pleaded, "I probably would have never believed you. But you should have told someone. I can't believe I was so blind for so long. I can't believe that I let him do that to you, to them."

"Them?" asked Paige.

Stephanie rubbed her nose and nodded, a disgusted look on her face.

"Dozens of them. The sick bastard taped them. Had them on DVDs. You, other girls. Sophie, I swear to god, one of them couldn't have been older than sixteen." Stephanie's anger seemed to replace her regret as she told Paige about Spencer. "I didn't see the signs. I didn't want to see the signs."

"I didn't either." Said Paige, smiling sadly at Stephanie. "I know now. But then… I think it was nicer to tell myself that I had been victim of some consuming and passionate affair. I didn't want to admit the truth. The truth that I was just a victim."

They sat quietly, looking at each other. Paige couldn't believe how different they both were from just a few years earlier. Both older, darker.

"Why can't you take the DVDs to the police?" asked Paige, "Get him arrested?"

Stephanie shook her head.

"I was dumb. " she said, "I started poking around when I found out that he gave me HIV. I found these DVDs in his desk. The ones of all the girls he… I confronted him. That was so stupid. I should have taken them straight to the police. He cried. He told me that he was a sex addict that he needed help. He begged me to not leave him. I stayed. I can't believe that I stayed. But them I saw him with some other girl, talking the same way he did to all the others. 'Oh, baby' this and 'honey' that. I knew. I knew he would never stop. I went to take the DVDs to the police, but he had destroyed them. Bastard. Fucking, sick, bastard."

Paige felt anger rise in her as well. Spencer had taken advantage of her. Paige knew now. But there were so many other things that had happened that she never really stopped to dwell on it. She had Abraham, and somehow he made her forget everything that came before him. But it wasn't a one-time deal. Spencer had done this to other girls. He had hurt his own girlfriend. If Paige didn't know better, she would say he was a monster.

"And now, I don't know." Stephanie continued, "He's doing really well at his job. His boss worships the ground he walks on. I bet that his boss would help him make the whole case go away."

"He still works here, in the city?"

"Yeah," said Stephanie, "For some politician guy. He was in the news a few years back, I don't know if you've heard of him? Reid Vance."

* * *

"So," asked Paige as she walked into the motel room, seeing Jo on the bed with a book in her lap. "What did you find out?"

Jo gave her a quizzical look, not forgetting the fact that Paige left her high and dry in the bar. When Paige ignored her look, Jo recounted what the saw that night.

"You were right, all signs point to shapeshifters. The melted flesh, people acting strangely then dying a few hours later." Jo said, watching Paige kick off her heels and disappear into the bathroom to change into out of her dress. "But you think it's something else?"

"How's your Italian?" asked Paige, reemerging.

"Oh, fabulous." Jo said, dryly.

Paige pulled out a copy of _Dante's Inferno. _

"The eighth circle of hell is reserved for deceivers. 'Barrators' or corrupt politicians are held under a pit of boiling water. The Malebranche are the devils who hold them under. If you were a demon, straight out of hell, where would you go to find corrupt politicians?"

"But why are they going for staffers? Why not the politicians themselves?"

"I think that they will, eventually, but look at these case documents. All of our victims served on the defense of their bosses. They were right there, they must have known what was really happening. The demons are going after the deceivers first, then the politicians."

"So, do you think you can guess who the next vic will be?" asked Jo.

"Well, sure. " said Paige, turning to her laptop. "We just need to see who was working for Vance last year and helped with the defense. Vance is the only one untouched by all this."

Paige's stomach dropped as she read the name. She had known, the moment that Stephanie had told her who Spencer was working for that she wouldn't be able to avoid him for this case.

"Spencer Platt" Jo read over her shoulder. "So, what do you think? Detail duty tomorrow?"

Paige swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.

As the two climbed into bed, Jo asked the question that she had clearly wanted to ask Paige all night.

"Paige, who is Sophie Glassman?"

"A girl I used to know." Paige said, "She's dead now."


	17. Chapter 17: The Hunting Age II

**Hey Kids,**

**So, I just need to stop making promises in my Author's Notes. I know I said I'd have this done by this morning but shit came up. I had to rage. We should just establish, me = sadistic bastard. There. I'm glad we all got through that with our dignity.**

**Anyways, there is probably going one more section of this with more of everyone's most requested character. So, hold tight! **

**I should have the final part of "The Hunting Age" up tonight or tomorrow. **

**Oh, shit, I'm doing it again. I must be stopped. **

* * *

"So, are you going to tell me why you can't tail this guy yourself?" asked Jo, sitting next to Paige in the Cadillac, tucked into an alleyway a few blocks from Reid Vance's office building.

Paige didn't respond, but gave Jo the headset.

Jo could tell that Paige wasn't being completely honest with her, but since this secret seemed to be one about Paige's life before the hunt, Jo didn't press the question.

Jo tucked her hair into the cap of a delivery company uniform and placed the camera headset in her ear. While no larger than a Bluetooth, the tiny earpiece allowed Jo to send feed straight to Paige's laptop. They had maxed out two fake credit cards to get it, but Jo was impressed with the technology.

As she got ready to exit the car, she stuck out her pinky to Paige.

It had become something of a pre-hunt tradition that had started a couple weeks ago. Paige had spotted the ghost in a house in Utah and was lining a safe room with salt when Jo needed to go out of the ghost-free-zone to get the object that the spirit had clung to.

"You'll come back, right?" Paige had asked, partly joking partly worried about her friend.

"I promise, " said Jo, holding up her pinky finger in a sacred oath of childhood friendship.

Paige had smiled and taken Jo's little finger in her own, both silently swearing to come back from the job, back to each other.

Since then they had done it every time they started a hunt or had to split up.

Paige smiled and took Jo's pinky once again, turning on her computer so that she could hear and see the feed from Jo's headset.

* * *

Jo walked into the office building, being sure to subtly snap photos of all the exits and windows in the lobby from her headeset.

"I have a package for, "Jo pretended to read off her clipboard as she stalled for time, sending a picture of the receptionist to Paige, "Mr. Spencer Platt."

"Alright, you can leave it here." The woman said.

"He has to sign for it."

"Fine, he's on the fourth floor, room 417." The receptionist said, turning back to her work.

Jo paused to photograph the directory before stepping into the gold plated elevators.

Jo walked into Spencer Platt's office. He was on the phone and gestured for Jo to hand him the clipboard, not asking what he was signing for. Jo took the opportunity to slip a bug of Paige's personal creation onto the underside of the desk.

* * *

Jo climbed back into the Cadillac, giving Paige a nod of acknowledgement as she watched her readers on the computer.

The bug that Jo had attached to Spencer Platt's desk was a combination of an audio recorder, an EMF reader and a thermostat. The thing would light up like a Christmas tree the second that something supernatural came along.

Jo and Paige leaned back against the seats, waiting. Eventually, the afternoon sun turned to dusk, and finally dark. Paige was still reading movement from Spencer Platt's office, so the two stayed to watch the building. Apparently, Spencer Platt was burning the midnight oil.

"I don't want to save him." Paige said simply, into the silence of the car.

Jo looked at her with lifted eyebrows.

"He's not a monster, but I'd say he's pretty close to one." She whispered to Jo. "He's the one who got me pregnant in college."

"Oh, Paige," said Jo, reaching over and holding Paige's hand in hers.

"He did it to other girls too." Paige continued. "He raped them."

"Paige, " said Jo, wrapping her arms around her. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry."

"So, I don't want to save him." Paige concluded.

Jo rubbed Paige's back, but bit her lip.

"Paige," said Jo, apologetically, "We don't get to choose who we save. "

Paige rubbed her eyes and nodded.

"We can get out of this job," Jo said, "I can call Rufus, or Bobby, hell, I'll even call my Mom. We don't have to hunt this ourselves. But it has to be hunted. It's killing people."

Paige snorted, "Yeah, really innocent people."

Jo leaned back from Paige and looked at her with surprise and concern. She had never heard Paige be so dark, so terrifying. Paige was starting to sound like the hunters that her mother had warned her about ever since she knew what a hunter was: vigilantes, rogue hunters who were as much a danger to people as to demons.

"It is not our place to decide who deserves to be saved and who doesn't." She said, cautiously. "We have to trust that normal, legal, channels will give them their justice. That isn't what we do."

"What if they don't?" asked Paige, "What if the legal channels of justice are bullshit and he walks free?"

"I want to rip the bastard's balls off for what he did to you." Jo said, "But we don't get to play judge, jury and executioner. Not for humans. Even horrible humans."

Paige nodded, but Jo could see the hesitation still in her eyes.

"Let me call, Rufus, " Jo said, pulling out her cell phone. "I'm taking us off this hunt. We'll go someplace else, God knows that we're needed just about everywhere."

Paige didn't stop her as she pulled out her phone.

Suddenly, Paige's EMF reader went buzzing off.

The girls looked at the reader and then looked back at each other. They Malebranche were in the building.

* * *

Jo pulled the machete from the weapon's chest that Paige had installed under the backseat of her Cadillac. Each took a machete and a pistol with silver bullets.

The only way to kill the Malebranche was to remove their heads, then burn them. The silver bullets would slow them down long enough to fully decapitate them. From what Paige had read, they were speedy little bastards, often almost invisible to the naked eye. They also tended to travel in packs.

Jo had been watching Paige cautiously out of the corner of her eye the whole time that Paige was arming up. Paige could see the nervousness, the question in her expression.

"We need to kill them." Paige said, with grim determination. "Before they kill someone else."

Jo looked apprehensive, but nodded. They both knew that if they stalled the hunt to wait for another player, they were practically letting the demon walk free. It was too late to call for back up.

The two entered the deserted hall way of the fourth floor, both looking for the demons they knew to be lurking there.

They froze as they heard a small whistling noise. It went around the room almost too quickly to track, like a wasp. Paige saw a shadow move and realized that the demons were moving too quickly for either her or Jo to see well.

Suddenly, Jo let out a shriek and Paige heard the sound of sizzling flesh. As she turned, she saw a winged, reptilian creature with black demon eyes holding Jo's hair as it held a hand to her collarbone. It had to pause in flight to burn Jo, but its wings still beat rapidly, like a humming bird's. Paige pulled her gun and aimed. Without more than a moment's hesitation, she pulled the trigger, shooting the Malebranche in the chest.

It fell to the ground, wings beating weirdly against the floor as it stuck its tongue out, tasting the air, clearly confused by the commotion. Finally, Paige found their advantage.

These things were dumb as hell.

Jo took the opportunity to turn and slice the head off of the demon with a few hazardous hacks to its neck.

With a sickening snap of the demon's spine, Paige saw blue blood ooze from the Malebranche. Jo panted as she rose, rubbing her hand against the burn on her neck.

"What are the odds that that was the only one?" she asked Paige.

Paige didn't have to bother answering, as the air around them buzzed again with the wings of a half a dozen more demons of the same, attracted by the blood and noise.

Jo swung her machete into the shadows, clearly hearing one behind her. As it fell to the ground, she started chopping at it's neck when another Malebranche began to burn her in the same spot as the first.

Paige ran over and completed decapitating Jo's fallen demon as Jo turned her attention to slashing the one currently attacking her.

They continued in this routine for a while: Jo knocking the Malebranche out of the air and Paige hacking their heads off once they hit the ground.

After a few moments, they had successfully killed all but one Malebranche who still buzzed around the room, seemingly unable to realize that it should run away or leave.

Paige pulled her gun again, the straighter shot between the two of them, and followed the sounds of the buzzing as it circled the room.

After a moment, Paige pulled the trigger, shooting the demon in the it toppled to the ground, Jo stepped forward and cut its head from its shoulders.

"Nice shot," panted Jo. Decapitation was more work than it appeared.

Paige didn't have the energy to respond, so the girls took to collecting the bodies of the half dozen-demon spawn lying around the hallway. Jo pulled out two trash bags, tossing one to Paige. She started collecting the heads while Paige circled behind her, putting the bodies into separate bags. Luckily, the demons were small and fit easily.

Paige looked to the main offices, in particular, towards the office 417 of Spencer Platt. Separated by two glass doors, Paige could only see the light from his office. Clearly, he hadn't heard any of the commotion that happened in the hall since he didn't look out to investigate or call security.

That caused Paige to pause.

She had fired a gun. They probably heard that on the street outside the building, let alone fifty feet away, no matter how much glass stood between them. Jo started dragging the bags towards the elevator, taking them to the basement to burn them.

Paige gestured with her chin towards the light from Spencer Platt's office.

Jo shrugged and nodded.

"Check it out." She said, "But we need to bail after I burn these fuckers. You already hacked the security cameras, right?"

"Of course." Said Paige.

"Cool," said Jo, clearly exhausted from the fight. "Meet me down there if you're done in less than twenty minutes. If not, just meet me at the car."

Jo held out her pinky. Paige took it with an apprehensive smile.

* * *

Paige circled the doors, trying to see in without actually having to enter.

Seeing nothing, she heaved a sigh and resigned herself to entering into the offices. She would just peek to see that he was still alive, then leave.

She became increasingly anxious as she drew closer to his office. For one, she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to see him alive. The idea of finding him dead became more and more appealing.

She walked towards the light, being sure to hug the wall and stay in shadow. She paused as she got to his office door, listening for sounds of his breathing or shuffling papers: anything to get out of actually having to lay eyes on him ever again. Hearing nothing, she decided she would actually have to look, and a new wave of nervousness hit her. She wondered if he would look the same as the boy that she had convinced herself to love a lifetime ago.

She heard a gurgling noise and smelled cooking meat.

She glanced into his office and saw him, almost the same as he was four years ago, held frozen in terror as the largest Malebranche Paige had seen held a finger to his chest. Spencer's shirt was burned though and smoke was rising from his heart where then demon held him down.

This particular Malebranche had a humanoid form, yet it's skin was still scaly and reptilian. Paige paused for a moment. She considered letting the Malebranche finish before she killed it, letting it take its last victim.

"_We don't get to play the judge, the jury and the executioner."_ Jo's voice rang in her head.

Paige swung into the room and pulled her gun, shooting twice into the demon's heart.

The demon stumbled back, but was clearly not phased by the bullets. He looked at her, his eyes had more focus and intelligence in his human, if scaly, face. He smiled cruelly, and vanished from his post behind Spencer, appearing beside her and grabbing Paige's gun holding wrist.

Paige bit back the scream as his touch burned her flesh and swung her left hand , holding the machete, sloppily in the general direction of the big daddy Malebranche. She didn't make contact with him, but she was able to dislodge herself from his fiery grip.

She heard the beat of his rapid wings behind her, and, with both hands on the blade, swung as hard as she could, cutting off the demon's head in a clean swoop.

She stood, panting and sweaty over the demon, oozing blue blood onto the office carpet, its leg twitching unconsciously.

After a few moments of silence, she heard Spencer's voice.

"Who are you?"

Paige remained silent.

"Sophie?" Spencer asked in a weak voice. "Sophie, that can't be you."

He stood, shakily, but he stood.

"This must be a dream. " he whispered. "Sophie? " he asked again, softly, and almost as a prayer.

Paige still didn't respond.

There were too many conflicting emotions in her mind.

His voice, his face, reminded her of that night, of that nervous girl she once was. Even though she had a bloody machete and a still loaded gun, she felt the ghost of her helpless nineteen-year-old self. Yet she was angry, to be looking at him, knowing what he had done to dozens of girls like her. What he had done to the girl he claimed to love.

Since it had happened, she had told herself that it was an accident. He had too much to drink and she had led him on, but now she hated herself for being so naive. Of course he didn't love her. He didn't mean those things he whispered to her that night. He was a predator, she just happened to be the most convenient prey at the time.

"Sophie," he said now, with more assurance in his voice. Her skin burned as if from the Malebranche's touch as he grabbed her hand to turn her to face him.

"It is you." He whispered, "Sophie… What happened? What was this? You saved me."

His voice broke from relief as panicked thoughts flitted through his mind, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

"I always knew I would see you again." He said. "Soph, I haven't been able to stop thinking of you."

As the words left his mouth, something inside Paige snapped. She pulled her gun again, aiming it at his face.

"Woah, Soph." said Spencer, backing up. He held his hands to his chest, a gesture of surrender. "Sophie, don't do this." He pleaded. "Just put down the gun. We can talk."

_"We can talk_" he had said, all those years ago. _"Lets go to my room, we can talk."_

Spencer's mouth was moving, but Paige couldn't hear what he was saying. She remembered the words he had said to her that night as he clumsily pressed against her. Words. Just words, like a politician's speech. Hollow, empty, meaningless. How many times had he said those words to other girls, to try and convince them that they wanted it too? How many girls had he infected?

"Sophie, don't you know I always loved you?"

The sound of her gunshot reverberated around the room, deafening her to the thump of his body hitting the floor.

Paige didn't stop to see if he was dead after the first shot. She kept shooting into his corpse, no longer the nervous Sophie Glassman, the girl that he had killed with his greed.

She only stopped shooting when the sounds from the gun became impotent clicks: her clip was empty. Spencer's blood combined with that of the demon's covered the walls and splattered on Paige.

Her cell phone rang in her pocket. She opened the phone, but couldn't form the words to speak, she couldn't take her eyes from still-warm corpse in front of her.

"Paige?" came Jo's panicked voice. "I heard more gunshots. Did we miss one? Is everything OK? We need to get out of here. Someone was bound to have heard the commotion."

Tears flowed freely from Paige's face, she still couldn't respond to Jo. The office was flooded in light as a helicopter peered in through the window. Red and blue lights flashed from below. Paige's ears had been ringing from the echo of the shot and the shock. She hadn't heard the sirens.

It was over. She was trapped. Her hunt, her life: she was about to spend the rest of her years in prison.

She felt regret, suddenly. He was human, with human parents. She had killed a person. Maybe he really was sick. Maybe he really did want help.

Maybe Stephanie had been wrong.

A hand appeared silently and wrapped around the wrist that has holding her phone. Paige had so many thoughts sprinting through her mind that she had forgotten Jo was on the other line. Everything seemed fuzzy and surreal to her.

Paige's eyes followed the hand holding her wrist up to where it connected to a body, then face.

Gabriel.

Without breaking eye contact with Paige, he held her phone to his ear.

In a flawless, impression of Paige's voice, Gabriel spoke.

"Jo, are you there?"

"Yes, Paige, what's going on? Where are-"

"We don't have time," Gabriel said, once again, in Paige's voice. "I need you to get out. If you can't slip past the police, hide someplace until you can. Is there an air vent near you? Climb into it.

"I need you to get into the car and drive. Don't wait for me. The second you have a chance, get behind the wheel and don't stop until you get to Bobby's. Change out the license plates; ditch the car if you have to. Find your Mom. Get an alibi."

"Paige, you're scaring me."

"I'll see you when I see you." Gabriel concluded, ending the call.

He crumbled her phone into a fine powder with his bare hand, the other still holding firm to Paige's wrist.

Gabriel glanced at Spencer's body, and then looked at Paige. There was no judgment as he drew the only logical conclusion.

Wordlessly, he reached forward and touched her. The ground fell out from under her feet and everything when white.


	18. Chapter 18: The Hunting Age III

Paige gasped for air as her feet hit solid ground. Gabriel's vice grip on her elbow was the only thing that kept her on her feet.

"Are you going to vomit?" asked Gabriel, warily, "Sometimes, people vomit."

Paige shook her head 'no' once the room stopped spinning.

"Cool" he said, "Be right back. "

Suddenly Paige was alone again as Gabriel vanished.

Once Paige got the feeling back to her legs, she looked around her surroundings. She was in an apartment, a dark apartment.

Cautiously, Paige walked towards the window with city lights steaming through it. She was facing an unfamiliar city. The only landmark that she could see was a great bridge.

She shivered, and then turned around to further inspect the apartment, walking into the living room.

Paige jumped as she heard a shrill bark and the sounds of tiny nails scampering against the hardwood floors. She looked towards her ankle where a Jack Russell Terrier was investigating her with feverish smells and wagging its tiny stumpy tail. Paige bent down and scratched its ears before she heard larger footsteps.

She turned to see a smooth muscular man entering the room, looking at her with as much confusion as she was looking at him with.

"Hello?" she offered, nervously.

"Hello." He replied, looking around the room. "Ki vagy te? Hol van Fredrich?"

"I'm sorry…" she said, "I don't speak…." She faltered; having no idea what language the man was even speaking.

He knitted his eyebrows at her.

"Vere is Fredrich?" he asked in accented English.

The man took a moment to look down at Paige's clothes; splattered in what was clearly blood. He gave her a nervous look and then a curt nod as he walked out the apartment, being careful to give her a wide berth of space.

Paige bent down and lifted the dog up to her arms, absently stroking its fur and walked back to the window, trying to determine where she was.

The dog suddenly squirmed from her grasp, bounding towards the newly materialized Gabriel.

"Hey, boy, " he said, patting the dog on the head before turning his eyes to Paige.

Paige stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the angel, never before so happy to see him.

She buried her face in his chest, like a child would, scared of all the things that had happened in the past few hours.

She had never actually touched him before, not this extensively or this close. Almost all of her contact with him previously had revolved around him healing her with the light touch of a finger of gripping her arm like he had that night to transport her. She was amazed at how human he felt. Warm, and soft, even.

She had seen him lift people off their feet without breaking a sweat and pull a Wendigo off her with a single hand. She had assumed that his body would be hard, like a wall.

She felt comfort in being so close to him. She wondered if it was because she was relieved to see him alive. If she had felt scared and a lone and doomed and her friend had saved her. Or, she thought, maybe it was simply because he was an angel, and they had some aura that comforted humans. She didn't much care.

She felt tears in her eyes as she remembered the gun. The blood. Leaving Jo alone. She wondered what Jo was thinking, where she was, if she made it out OK.

Reality was spinning around Paige; the consequences of everything that had happened threatened to crush her.

"Ok," said the angel, patting her awkwardly as she held him. "No crying."

Paige nodded and released the uncomfortable angel from her grip. He looked at her, a bit like a concerned parent. Tears, silent -at least- still streamed from her face.

Gabriel sighed.

He took Paige's hand and led her into the kitchen.

He stood her by the sink and turned on the water. Testing the temperature, he wetted a rag. He looked back at her and started wiping the blood from her arms and hands. Paige let him, standing limp like a rag doll.

Gabriel pulled the shirt from her body, tossing it, bloodstained, into the sink.

As he worked up her neck to her face, Paige looked up from the ground into his eyes. He was looking at her with a sad sort of understanding.

Finally washing all the blood from her, he kissed the top of her head and pulled her into a hug, and again, Paige was again surprised at the warmth and comfort of it.

"You need to talk it out?" he asked, his chin resting on the top of her head. Paige shook her head, 'no' against his chest. Surprised, confused but immensely pleased by the angel's uncharacteristic tenderness.

"Good," he sighed, relieved.

He stepped away from their hug, and Paige felt her body wrapped in warmth. With a flick of his wrist, he had put her in sweat pants and the softest sweater that she had ever felt. He guided her to the couch, back in the living room and sat her down on it, once again procuring a mug of tea from nowhere.

Paige fought the lump in her throat to take a sip, sputtering when she tasted the burn of alcohol. She looked back up at the angel, the familiar amused expression ghosting along his features.

"So sue me, I made it Irish." He said with a shrug.

Paige put the cup down on the coffee table, too shaken to really drink anything. She leaned back against the cushions and the small terrier took the opportunity to stake out her lap, lazily rolling onto its back so Paige could scratch its stomach.

She smiled slightly as she obliged the dog, finding it easier to focus her attention on the him rather than on Gabriel.

"His name is Goliath." He said with a smirk.

Paige gave a weak giggle, surprised that she could even manage the sound. The tiny terrier thumped its tail.

"Where are we?" she asked finally, still not looking up at the angel.

"Budapest. I like the food." Said Gabriel, shrugging, "Plus, I've got a couple of ticked off hunters looking for me in the states. It's an awful lot easier to hide from them across the pond. Thank my father for Americans, constantly forgetting that there is a whole world beyond their borders"

"Gabriel," Paige said, "What's going to happen to me?"

Gabriel scratched his chin as he considered.

"You're going to hang out here for tonight, at least. I cleaned up your crime scene pretty well, if I do say so myself. No fingerprints, no DNA. You already took care of the security cameras. I dropped the demon in a volcano in Iceland while I was on my way."

"And Spencer?" Paige asked

"Long dead by the time I got there." He said evenly.

Paige swallowed a sob in her throat.

"I wouldn't have shot him." Gabriel continued, conversationally. "Maybe I would have had him trip and die from impalement via his asshole. Or maybe I would have had him bleed to death after he cut his dick off in something ridiculous, like a car door or an oscillating fan."

Paige blanched.

"Bastard had it coming." Said Gabriel, maliciously. "I know you think that I did something similar to your friend. But I was nothing like him. Jo never said no. Those girls did. They cried it out as he raped them. If it was me, he would die screaming it out, the same way that all those girls did."

"Gabriel," Paige said, "You scare me when you talk like that."

Gabriel's expression softened, but there was still a cruel glint in his eye. He dropped back into silence.

"Where were you?" asked Paige, looking up at him for the first time, "Where were you when I prayed for you?"

"Yeah. About that, you really need to cease and desist with the praying thing." He said, "I heard you loud and clear, but so did every other angel on earth and in heaven. It's like sending out an SOS signal to anyone tuned in to the frequency. Need I remind you that I ran away? It's been a long time, but there is a chance that some of my feathery brethren are looking for me as well."

"How have you hidden from them for so long?"

"Well, it helps that I'm sort of a big deal. " he said matter of factly, "I can hear them too, but I have the added benefit of being more powerful. I can tell when they're looking and where. I can even send signals up and get their wings all tied in a knot if they get too close. I don't think they're terribly interested in finding me anyways. "

He spit out the last part with more emotion than he probably intended. Paige watched him with curiosity. This was one of the few times he talked about being an angel and being in heaven. One of the few times that he was being open about his powers and his knowledge. Paige decided to push her luck.

"Gabriel, I heard about the youngest Winchester, Sam." Paige started.

"Opening the gates of Hell? Yeah, classy."

"There is something special about him, isn't there? Some reason that all those things happened to him, some reason that Azazel was after him. Is it true that he was born under an omen?"

Gabriel gave her a long look, as if considering whether or not he should answer.

"I know that you aren't babysitting me out of the goodness of your heart." Paige continued, turning her attention quickly back down to Goliath, who was kicking his back leg out in ecstasy as Paige rubbed his belly. "I was born around the same time as him. My family was attacked by the same demon. Gabriel, am I like Sam? Is there a reason that these things keep following me? Why you keep saving me?"

Gabriel took a deep breath. Paige wondered if Gabriel was going to tell her the truth. Then she wondered if she could handle what he would tell her. Tonight, on top of everything else.

"No." he said stiffly, "You're not like Sam Winchester. There is darkness in Sam's soul that will one day come to the surface in one form or another. There isn't that darkness in you."

"But I'm not normal, am I?"

"You are a normal, human woman."

"But I don't have some sort of destiny?"

"Everyone has a destiny. Some are just more important than others."

"So-"

Gabriel cut her off by standing quickly and walking over to Paige on the couch. He pulled a blanket out of nothing and wrapped it around her. He looked into her eyes, silently telling her that he was done answering her questions.

Paige decided to let the matter drop. For now.

She curled herself into the blanket, watching Gabriel tuck her in. As he sat on the floor, close to her head, she felt the comfort that she had when she hugged him. A soft feeling of protection, like a child being held in a parent's lap. Nothing would hurt her as long as he was close.

"Gabriel." She said again. He sighed, clearly regretting his answers to her questions. "Who was that guy who was here earlier?"

Gabriel chuckled.

"This is my earthly home." He said with a wicked smile, "I come here when I want to enjoy earthly pleasures. Jakab happens to be one of those pleasures." He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made Paige laugh, high as she was in her cloud of angel aura.

"So, you're gay?" she asked.

"Sometimes. You need to get your ideas of sexuality out of your little noggin." Said Gabriel, "Angels have no gender. At the time I first came to earth, it was just easier to slap a sausage down there and call it a day. I've just sort of stuck with it since. Sex with fellow men is simply another kind of human pleasure that I enjoy."

"Gabriel?"

"Hmmmmm?"

"Thank you. For everything."

Gabriel gave her a weak smile, then touched her forehead, casting her into sleep.

* * *

"Hey, Bobby, What's up?" asked Sam Winchester, as he answered the phone. Next to him in the Impala, Dean looked over with interest. The two were heading back from a hunt in Tennessee. Bobby had agreed to call them if he got any word of the Colt or Bela, the bitch who stole the Colt, right out from under them.

"I got a job for you boys in D.C." said Bobby.

"Yeah?" asked Sam, "Well, we just finished a salt and burn in Tennessee, so we can go to D.C."

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, signaling that he needed to turn the car around and head east.

"What's the job?" asked Sam.

"Well, this gets a little complicated…" Bobby said, "See, there was a man found in the office of some politician guys. He was shot eight times."

"And you say that this is a job for us?" asked Sam.

"He was shot with pure silver bullets."

"Oh." Said Sam, with an air of surprise. "Was it a demon?"

"Maybe. That's what I need you boys to check out. " sighed Bobby, "It looks like it could have been a mistake. There was a series of weird deaths for a month or so before, and it looks like a shape shifter. Could be a rookie player got scared and screwed up. Or it could be…"

"A rouge hunter," Sam concluded for him.

Dean looked quickly at Sam then back at the road. He and Sam had a run in with those in the past. It was one of the worst experiences of their career.

"Yeah. It's become a pretty high profile case, and the place is crawling with Feds. I've been seen a few too many times to go marching into the lion's den, but you boys should be able to dig something up."

"Yeah, you got it Bobby."

* * *

Sam had his head in his hands as his computer pulled up another broken link. He and Dean were at a diner just outside the capital and he was trying to pull up security files from the building that their victim, Spencer Platt, had been murdered in.

"Someone has tampered with this." Sam finally concluded, looking over his computer to his elder brother as Dean stuffed bacon into his face.

Dean swallowed his bite with some difficulty.

"So, definitely a hunter, then?"

"It's looking that way." Sam said with a reluctant sigh, "It could still be an accident though. All the signs point to shifter. Melted skin, weird behavior."

"Is it more comforting it is to have a trigger happy rookie out there, killing people, drawing attention, or a crazy ass rogue?"

* * *

Dean held a flashlight to the spot where Spencer Platt was killed, looking for some trace of… anything, really.

The kid was squeaky clean, not even a parking ticket. Graduated Cornell, was on a softball team, and, according to his boss and his co-workers was just an all around fun guy to be with.

The man was so boring that he was almost interesting.

Almost.

"Dean, I think we got something," said Sam, picking the lock to the bottom drawer of Spencer Platt's desk. After several seconds of pushing around papers, Sam pulled out the false bottom of the drawer.

DVDs. Dozens and dozens of DVDs were in the drawer.

"Grab them and lets get out of here. I checked, the janitor usually makes his rounds around this time. We'll check them out in the motel."

Sam nodded, throwing the DVDs into the duffel bag,

"So, what do you think?" asked Dean as he leaned over his brother's shoulder. Sam inserted the DVD into his laptop. The two were back in their motel room, ready to poke through Spencer Platt's secrets for proof of anything demonic. "Espionage, illegal bank records?"

The screen showed a bedroom, and a poor film quality revealed that it was homemade.

"Sex tape?" asked Dean with a smirk. "The kinky bastard."

"We just need to see his eyes, see if he is a shifter," Sam said, in an annoyed voice. "Then we're done watching this, got it?"

"Stick in the mud," Dean scoffed, but smiled good naturedly. He wasn't exactly dying to watch porn with his brother, but seeing Sam so uncomfortable always put Dean in a good mood.

A girl and boy entered the room, they both looked to be college age. The boy took her hand, pulling her further into the center of the room, more on camera, which was focused directly at his bed.

The girl looked around the room, pausing on the posters on the wall before looking down at her hand, clasped in his.

"Dean," said Sam, "I don't think she knows she's being filmed."

Dean didn't respond. Sam was right. Dean suddenly got a bad feeling about what was going to happen.

"Wow, a single," the young woman said in an impressed voice. "Who did your Dad have to bribe to get you this?"

The boy laughed, stepping towards her. Putting his hands on her hips he pulled her closer against him, leaning in to kiss her. The girl pulled her head away.

"You said you wanted to talk." She giggled.

"I do want to talk." He said, coyly. "I want to talk about the way that your lips look when you talk. I want to talk about the way that I can't stop thinking about you. I want to talk about how you are in my dreams every night."

"Oh, barf" said Dean.

But the girl smiled and looked away from Spencer Platt on the screen.

"Spencer… "She said. "What about Stephanie?"

"Sophie, can't you see that I can't think of anyone besides you?" he pleaded. He grabbed her hand and held it between his legs. "Don't you see what you do to me?"

The girl, Sophie, pulled her hand back quickly, and started walking towards the door.

"Spencer, I think I just want to go back downstairs"

"No, you can't." he said, putting one arm by her head against the closed door, the other wrapped around the back of her waist. The girl was looking down, away from his face.

"I see the way you look at me, Soph." he said. "I see that you want me, I know you do. You can't tell me to stop Sophie. You can't. I want you, I need you too much."

He held her head in place as he kissed her. Once his lips were pressed to hers, his hands started groping her breasts, his knee parted her legs, he kept pushing himself against her.

"Please, Spencer, I don't want it to be like this. Not tonight. Not while you're still with Stephanie." The girl said, breaking from his lips.

"You're so beautiful. You know that?" he asked, "Beautiful" he placed a sloppy kiss on her neck.

"Spencer," the girl's voice threatened to break and he started fumbling with the buttons on her shirt. "Spencer, please, wait. Stop it."

She lifted her hands to push his away, but he slammed her back against the door. His voice wasn't pleading anymore.

"Don't do this to me Sophie. I love you. You know that I love you. And I know you want me. Tell me you didn't wear that dress last weekend to get me to stare at your ass and tits. Tell me. You were flirting with me all night because Stephanie was at home for the weekend. Remember?" His voice softened, "I knew you wanted me. I know you still do. That's why you're up here. You knew this would happen. You can't tease me like this, Sophie."

Sophie shook her head 'no' but Spencer pushed his lips back against her.

"Ok, I can't watch this anymore," said Dean, disgusted, as he turned away from the computer.

"He still hasn't looked at the camera," Sam said, "I still can't see if he is a shifter or not."

To Dean's dismay, the laptop kept making sounds as Sam continued to watch, his nose wrinkled in repulsion.

Dean heard the sound of bedsprings. There was a rustling sound that could easily be the removal of clothing.

"Spencer, please, stop. I don't want our first time to be like this."

"C'mon, babe," whispered Spencer, "You got me so hard. You know how much I want you. Oh, god, baby, you're so hot and tight. "

"Spencer, stop, that hurts. Spencer, I mean it, please, that hurts so-"

Dean heard a sob from the screen.

"Can you put that thing on mute?" Dean barked, "I can't listen to it Sam, I just can't"

Sam hit mute, but Dean could still hear the sound, echoing through the room. If anything, the silence amplified the noise, the memory of the girl's choked sob, between pleas of "stop."

Sam continued to watched for the evidence of a shifter, horror and disgust clear in his features.

"Not a shifter," Sam said, a mixed emotion unmistakable in his voice.

Dean could relate. He had wanted Spencer Platt to be a demon, a monster. Something that he was allowed to hunt, kill, exterminate.

Sam was about to slam his laptop closed when he peered closer at the screen.

"Uh, Dean, come look at this."

"Sam, I don't want to see anything on that screen. You said he wasn't a shifter. I believe you. Please. Just turn it off."

"No, Dean, just look, OK?"

Dean sighed and bent down to look at the screen. The boy had Sophie lying on her back in only her bra, one of his hands was holding her elbow down, the other was held against her face. Sam pointed to the girl's wrist.

"That look familiar to you?" he asked.

The camera was cheap and blurry. He could hardly make out the features of the girl and boy's faces, let alone tattoos.

Sam zoomed in on it.

"It's a Star of David, on her left wrist." He explained.

Sam moved the screen to have the girl's face in the shot. It was impossible, thought Dean. What were the odds?

"Can you think of any hunters we might know of with a tattoo like that and a reason to want Spencer Platt dead?"

Dean looked at the other DVDs in the bag from Spencer Platt's office. He taped it. The sick fuck taped it. Dean was willing to bet the Impala that the exact same thing was on every other one of those DVDs.

"You know what we have to do." Said Sam, slowly, as if asking his brother if he truly wanted to go through with it.

"Yeah," said Dean, pulling his phone from his pocket.

"Bobby. It's Dean. Yeah, so we're in D.C. It looks like it was a shifter after all. Hunter just didn't think to dispose the body. Maybe panicked. Rookies, you know? Yeah, I'm sure. We caught him glancing silver eyes on a tape. Well, better than a rogue, right? Yeah. Talk to you later, Bobby."

Sam was looking at his brother in shock.

"What? I hate the girl, but I think we should let her have this one."

Sam nodded in agreement. They pushed the crimes of Spencer Platt back into the duffel bag.

"What do you say that we drop these off at the Police Station on the way out of town?" asked Dean.

"Sounds like one of the best ideas you've ever had," approved Sam.


	19. Chapter 19: Lies and Punishment

**Hi kids,**

**So, though this won't be done by June 16, I am going to try and update more often. Please keep leaving reviews! I adore them! They're better than chocolate! They're better than dogs wearing sunglasses! They're better than Jeffery Dean Morgan, naked, on a beach, with a six pack of Corona! Ok, wait, scratch the last one. Let's not get carried away, kids. **

**This is a little sumthin sumthin. I had a real blast writing it (lots of Gabriel!) I really hate it when people call chapters "filler" chapters because I feel like everything is contributing to something. But, I have a friend who will tell me, point blank, that this is a "filler" chapter. Well, sorry. I had fun writing it. Everything will come up later, I just tell the my story at a slow pace.**

* * *

Paige woke in the morning with a very small paw pressed against her face.

In the night, Goliath had snuggled up against her as she slept. The dog, apparently, was most comfortable using Paige's arm as a pillow, with his tiny snout buried in her hair.

Paige sat up, causing Goliath to give a disgruntled moan which quickly disappeared as he discovered her newly vacated warm spot on the couch. Curling up in a ball where Paige had been laying, he went back to sleep.

Paige heard noise in the kitchen and walked towards it.

"You are avake." Said Jakab as Paige entered the room, stopping short in surprise as she saw him. "I vas afraid to vake you and your boyfriend."

Paige must have given him a confused look.

"De dog." Jakab explained, holding his hands about eight inches apart for further clarification.

Paige nodded and laughed. Jakab smiled warmly at her. He gestured to the table in the kitchen and went to grab the coffee pot.

"Sit, eat. I have been left vith orders to feed you, see dat you get clean and pleasure you sexually if you vant."

Paige blanched at the end of his statement. He gave her a knowing smile as he poured her a cup of coffee.

"Fredrich has mean sense of funny, no?"

Paige laughed again, liking Jakab more and more.

"I vas excited. Fredrich has never had friends or visitors. You must be important to him."

"How long have you known him?" asked Paige, genuinely interested. She had assumed that Jakab was something along the lines of a prostitute, but he walked around the kitchen almost as if it were his own.

Jakab sighed and looked at the ceiling as he considered.

"Fifteen years," he said, sounding a little surprised himself. "Ve met fifteen years ago, and dis," he gestured around the apartment, "Has been my life since."

"Fifteen years?" Paige said in amazement. She paused before she continued, "How much do you know about him?"

Jakab gave her another knowing smile.

"Noting and yet everyting." He said. "Fredrich tells me noting, and I ask noting. But I know dat he is not human, not human like you and me. Fifteen years ve spent together and he has not aged a day. He vanishes and appears suddenly from rooms. Some nights he comes home, bloody, like you."

Jakab reminded her of the night before. Paige quickly looked back at the table, hiding her eyes as the weight of her conscience walloped her again. He lowered himself so that he was eye level with her.

"You are not bad person." Jakab said earnestly, placing his hand on hers, "I can tell."

"I've done bad things." Paige said softly.

"You have done bad tings?" he asked her dryly, "Ve all do tings we wish we could take back."

Paige tried not to sigh as he said it. She doubted that Jakab knew what she really meant.

"I am not Hungarian." Explained Jakab, "I met Fredrich fifteen years ago ven I vas still living in, I tink you call it, Yugoslavia?"

Jakab smiled darkly as Paige looked up at him.

"I vas fighting for de independence of my people, for my country, but back den, everyone vas." His eyes never wavered from Paige's as he spoke, "I did horrible tings to innocent people. Vomen, children. One day I voke up. I refused to kill a voman, she vas pregnant. She prayed. De men in my guard, dey laughed. Made fun of her, she vas a Muslim. Dey told her dat her God didn't love her. She did not have a place vith us, in our country, vith our God. Dey told me to kill her. I had de barrel of my gun to her head and she kept praying. I couldn't do it.

"Dey killed her, den they shot me for not killing her. Dey left me for dead, dat vas when Fredrich found me."

Jakab stood and turned away from her, rubbing his nose.

"I have dose nightmares still, all the people I killed, dey find me when I sleep." He shook his head, "Ve all tought ve vere doing de right ting. Dere side, our side. Vere vas no right ting. Ve vere just killing."

Paige looked down at her coffee, unsure of what to say. Jakab turned back to her.

"Dat is how I know dat you are not bad person. Fredrich cares about you."

"Are you so sure that… Fredrich… is good?"

"I do not know vat good is anymore," admitted Jakab, "But I no longer believe in evil. It is just people trying to survive. People doing vat dey tink is right. I love Fredrich. Fredrich loves me. Dat is all I need to know."

"Fredrich has much love." continued Jakab, "But he is very, how you say, picky, about vo he gives it to. Ve are lucky people."

Paige didn't have time to respond. Gabriel appeared in the room with his hand covering his eyes.

"I do hope I'm interrupting something." He said.

Paige rolled her eyes but smiled in spite of herself, Jakab looked warmly at Gabriel but then walked back to the kitchen where he was preparing breakfast. Paige looked between the two, in awe of the kind of love Gabriel must have for him. Paige didn't think that even Gabriel realized how much his expression softened when he looked at his lover.

He walked up behind Jakab and whispered something to him in Hungarian. Jakab turned to leave and kissed Paige on the cheek, rubbing her back.

"Trust Jakab, he knows. You are not bad person because you have done bad tings." He smiled at Paige and she returned the gesture. As she looked at him, she knew that she was looking at one of Gabriel's most intimate secrets.

Gabriel could and did love.

Jakab turned to Gabriel and kissed him before he left. It was the kiss that only long term lovers shared, no passion or longing, but reassurance; a reassurance that they would see each other again and again for the rest of Jakab's life. It was a kiss that had been like a million before it and promised a million more after.

* * *

"Are you going to tell me about you and Jakab?" asked Paige as Gabriel began to eat the stacks of stuffed pancakes that Jakab left behind.

"Nope."

Paige sighed and leaned back against her chair.

"You love him." Said Paige, still a little surprised and moved.

Gabriel took a while longer than necessary to chew while he considered how to answer Paige's statement.

"Yes and no." he said, "Angel love and human love are different. I care for him. But I know that he is not like me, and he will never really understand me. I know that one day he will grow old and die. My membership up there has expired, once he's gone from earth he's gone from me."

"You wouldn't return to heaven to visit him?" asked Paige, "I mean, if you could see him after he died, why wouldn't you do everything in your power to do so?"

Paige was thinking of her parents, her son, her friends. Some nights she would lie in bed and wish that she could hear her father's voice again. His booming laugh, his stupid puns, his jokes that she had heard a thousand times before. For her, death was the great divide, a line she could not breach.

"You really think Jakab is my first human?" asked Gabriel. "Once their souls pass the physical realm, I let them live in paradise in peace." He paused for a second to put an obscene amount of butter on his pancakes. "They don't get to live a normal life when they're with us. Belonging to something like me means that they can't have most human niceties: friends, relatives, careers. Usually they don't mind that much. We can give them all the material things they desire. Plus, just being around us is kind of like having a 24 hour contact high, as I'm sure you've realized. That warm fuzzy feeling you get when you are close to me? If we were fucking, that would be multiplied by about a hundred."

Paige's guess about angel aura seemed to be true.

"So, there have been others?" asked Paige. "Do you have others now? Tucked away around the world?"

Gabriel loaded another considerable stack of pancakes on his plate. Paige knew that Gabriel wasn't limited in his ability to consume food like a human would be, but actually watching him eat was still a bit of a shock.

"I don't double up," Gabriel said, "Having a human is kind of like spreading the most vulnerable parts of yourself around. It isn't too hard for other angels or gods to figure out which humans belong to whom. We kind of have a tit for tat mentality. If someone does something to tick another off, their first target for retaliation is usually a human pet. Humans are kind of considered disposable."

Paige wrinkled her nose at the statement, but Gabriel shrugged at her reaction.

"The logic is that all humans die eventually. What difference does it make in the long term if they die ten, twenty or sixty years before their natural time?"

Paige shook her head at the reason. It explained why Gabriel didn't seem to mind killing people as much as Paige figured that an angel should. She changed the subject.

"You're not monogamous, though. Paige said, think about Gabriel's complete lack of hesitation in hooking up with Jo.

"Nope."

"If Jakab is your only…pet… then what am I?"

"A dumbass who keeps getting herself into situations that she needs bailed out of?"

"Gabriel, I'm serious."

Gabriel ignored her question, as usual.

"So," said Gabriel after he finished all the pancakes on the table while Paige sat in silence for a few minutes, put off by his continuous evasion of her most crucial question. "Your girlfriend. She's fine. She's at Rufus Turner's place. I'll drop you there."

Paige nodded. Gabriel stood, holding out his arm to Paige.

"Gabriel, how can I get in contact with you if I can't pray?" she asked.

"I'll keep an eye on you, like I have been."

"Yeah, ok. But how can I keep an eye on you?"

Gabriel paused for a second moment, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't know. I was worried, when you didn't show. How can I tell if_ you're_ ok?"

Gabriel looked at her as if she was the first human he had ever seen before.

"I think, after all this, we can establish that we're friends," Paige ventured, "Friends check up on each other."

Gabriel still stared at her in shock.

"Fine. Forget it." She said, embarrassed by her presumption.

Gabriel considered for a moment, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a brassy Hungarian coin. He squeezed it in his palm, then handed it to Paige, who let out a hiss as she touched the burning hot metal. Gabriel quickly touched her burnt fingers, healing them, then offered her the, now cooled, coin again.

"Give that a little squeeze and think something at me." He said, "I, and only I, will hear it. But don't expect me to come running every time. And don't call me for every little boo boo and question you have. And, for God's sake, don't lose it."

"Got it." She said.

Gabriel reached out and grabbed her arm. Once again, the ground under her feet disappeared and she saw only white.

* * *

Paige stumbled as she hit the ground. Gasping for cool air, she waited a few moments before she stood straight and gathered her surroundings. Gabriel had vanished, leaving Paige very much alone in the woods.

She pulled Gabriel's coin from her pocket and squeezed it in her palm. _Don't be a stranger_ she thought to him.

She could see the lights from a house. Shivering slightly, Paige walked towards them.

She saw her Cadillac parked in front of the house, filling her with relief. She steeled herself not to run up the porch steps.

Pausing for a moment, she reached out and knocked.

She saw Jo's brown eye staring out at her through the tiny flap in the door. Swinging it open, Jo launched herself into her friend's arms.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Paige. Jo whispered into her ear, "Don't. You. Ever. Fucking. Do. That. Again."

"Jo, I'm so sorry." Whispered Paige.

Being so close to her friend, to the memory of the night made Paige well up with tears and remorse again.

Jo pulled away and wiped Paige's tears from her face with her sleeve. She gave Paige a strained smile before linking her fingers with hers and leading her into the cabin.

"Rufus." Called Jo, "look who I found."

"Damn." Said Rufus, coming out of a downstairs room full of books "It's good to see you, Garcia."

"You too, Turner." she said, smiling. Paige looked around the cabin.

"Zapata graduated University of Rufus. He's hunting on his own now. Can't be too much of an idiot, since he seems to be bagging a lot of hunts." Said Rufus, guessing Paige's question.

"How about you?" she asked.

"I'm out. Done hunting." Said Rufus. "I'm retired, again." He shook his head. "I swear, every time I think I'm out, they pull me right back in."

"It's because you love it." Said Jo, rolling her eyes.

"Just cause you're grown, girl, don't mean you get to give me lip."

Jo rolled her eyes again at Paige. Rufus waved them back into his office. Rolling out a newspaper, he dropped it in front of Paige, watching her face for her reaction.

"Man in D.C. was the last in a series of weird deaths. He was shot to death. With silver bullets. You know anything about that?"

"I _told _you Rufus," Jo quickly interjected, "We were in Dundas, Virginia, not D.C."

"A rogue hunter is a rogue hunter," snapped Rufus, "If you know anything, we have to put the word out. We got to police ourselves. A couple bad hunters can ruin it for everyone."

"Dundas, Virginia," Paige repeated.

Rufus looked at her, then between her and Jo. Paige wondered if he really believed her, or if he was being overly suspicious, as always.

"I've known Jo her whole life," said Rufus, "And, Garcia , I hope you don't mind that I consider you a damn fine hunter, woman and friend. I'll believe you if you say that you didn't have anything to do with that kid getting shot full of hunter grade ammo. But don't you insult my intelligence by lying, girl."

"Dundas, Virgina" Paige repeated firmly.

Jo made a face at Rufus that bordered on 'I told you so.'

* * *

The girls spent the day sitting with Rufus as he pulled out files of hunts he had collected.

"Yeah, 'retired Jo had said sarcastically before Rufus silenced her with a look.

They settled on a salt and burn in Tucumcari, New Mexico.

As the sun began to set, Jo and Paige decided to go for a jog through the woods near Rufus' house.

Jo always needed to move before the day was through. The girl had as much energy as the energizer bunny. Paige usually grumbled about doing any form of exercise besides straight forwards combat fighting, but running was something that she actually enjoyed.

They jogged in silence until they reached a pond where they stopped to take a break.

"Are you the rogue hunter?" asked Jo after a few moments of quiet while each caught their breath.

Paige's eyes welled with tears as she nodded 'yes.' She could stand Rufus, Bobby, Ellen and every other hunter on the planet being upset with her for killing Spencer Platt, but Paige was terrified of what Jo would think. More than anything, Paige needed Jo's approval.

Jo nodded at Paige's confirmation.

"I had figured." She said slowly.

"I'm so sorry," Paige said, her voice breaking, "I wish I could take it back. I wish I could take it all back."

Paige was turned away from Jo, trying futilely to hide her tears. Jo walked up behind her and gave Paige a hug from behind. She rested her chin on Paige's shoulder.

"It won't become a habit, then?" she asked.

Paige shook her head 'no.'

"Ok," said Jo, "Ok, we'll get through this."

Paige and Jo sat at the edge of the pond, staring into the green water. Paige felt Jo's support on one side and Gabriel's coin in her pocket.

She wasn't sure if she would ever feel normal again, or of the weight of Spencer's murder would haunt her for the rest of her life. But, with the support of her friends, Paige was certain that, while she may never return to being 'normal,' she at least felt confident that she would one day be 'ok.'


	20. Chapter 20:Wuthering Nights

**Hey kids,**

**So, I actually probably will publish the rest of this hunt tonight. I've been on fanfiction time out for publishing a story that was a bit too risque, apparently. I don't see how anything I've written is more graphic than a man licking the "salty sweet precum" off of his brother's dick, but hey, what do I know? Anyways, I was on lock down (which was hilarious) and either in spite of or because of it, I really wrote a lot (Keep your eyes peeled for another Directors Cut one shot as well! And take note that one of my "graphic" one shots was removed.)**

**God forbid someone read something sexually explicit, you know, on the internet.**

**I digress, be sure to read and review! Tell me what you think of my OCs besides Paige. **

* * *

Jo was leaning in, so close, her lips mere millimeters away. Her eyes were open, but not looking for confirmation. They both knew that they wanted this closeness, this intimacy. They shared everything else, why not this?

Paige closed her eyes, exhaling in relief as Jo closed the distance between them, ghosting her lips along Paige's.

It wasn't like before. This Jo knew what she doing and wanting from her.

Their lips parted and Jo slid a hand behind Paige's head as she deepened the kiss, her fingers tracing along the sensitive hairline on the back of Paige's head. Paige shivered, moving her own hand to Jo's knee, not asking for anything, yet.

Jo pulled Paige's hair from her elastic band and paused for a moment to admire the effect, bringing their faces close so she could appreciate the waves of blonde meeting brunette. Jo pushed Paige onto her back, leaning over her. Jo's hands skimmed down her side, pausing as she reached Paige's waist band.

There was a hint of question in Jo's eyes. She was wordlessly asking if Paige trusted her.

Paige trusted no one else in the world the way she trusted Jo to love her, protect her, want her. Every time that Paige was sure she was alone, Jo was there; probably with a beer and a joke to boot.

Paige nodded, she trusted her.

Paige blinked in confusion. She was no longer wrapped in Jo's arms and legs and lips but sitting about ten feet away, watching herself kiss Jo, their hands and lips luxuriously exploring each other's.

"'We're just friends' she says, 'It's not like that' she says, 'I'm not gay' she says," came a sarcastic voice from Paige's left.

"Get out of my dream, Gabriel." Said Paige, dully. She had long since stopped being surprised by his abilities. Every time she found a new, and often intrusive, way that he was able to manipulate her, she didn't spare the energy to be shocked or surprised.

With a mean smile, Gabriel appeared next to Paige, turning to the dream Jo and Paige who were still locked in a passionate embrace.

"Yes, I don't know what I was thinking. Clearly, the two of you are just platonic professionals."

"It's a dream, Gabriel. They're natural and they don't mean anything." Said Paige, refusing to get defensive. She had learned from experience that that only amplified his teasing.

"Do you ever dream of me like this?"

"…. No…."

"You do!" laughed Gabriel, clapping his hands together and wiping a tear of mirth from his eye.

"How can I help you?" Paige asked, annoyed.

"First this little wet lezzie dream. Then me? You need to get laid, Paige."

"Yeah, we're not talking about this."

Gabriel looked at her for a minute as if trying to decide something. He leaned forward and sniffed her, his eyes narrowing as he calculated.

"It has been almost _two _years."

"Seriously, Gabriel, drop it."

Gabriel let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Ok, take off your pants. Let's do this. I am an angel of mercy, after all."

Paige rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Or, you can borrow Jakab, if you want." Continued Gabriel, a cruel glint shining in his eye as he saw that he was getting to her. "He is very skilled with his tongue."

"GABRIEL." Snapped Paige.

"Fine. Fine. Subject dropped, yeesh." He said, putting up his hands in mock surrender, "Even though it has never been clearer that you need a good boot knocking."

Paige glared at him.

"I have a job for you."

Paige's eyes widened in surprise. Gabriel had never actively encouraged her jobs. In fact, on multiple occasions, he had done everything that he could to talk her out of them. On top of that, him coming to her with a job meant that there was something he couldn't do on his own.

"Is everything alright?" she asked him, starting to get worried. She had always thought of Gabriel as omnipotent. It suddenly struck her that Gabriel would only come to her if he was truly desperate. "Is Jakab ok?"

Gabriel sighed and flicked his wrist, removing the embracing dream versions of Jo and Paige that had been going at it in front of them.

"Yeah, he's fine." Said Gabriel, quickly. "I need you to do something for me."

"Of course," Paige said, without hesitation. Despite the fact that the angel knew how to annoy her and took great pleasure in doing so, Paige knew that she owed him big time. Gabriel gave a halfhearted smile at her blind allegiance.

"So, I need you to go get something for me."

"Sure…" she said, waiting for him to elaborate.

"It's… " he paused, "I need you to steal a book for me."

"Ok…" Paige said, still waiting for him to explain why he couldn't get it himself.

"It's guarded by angels."

"Why is it so important?" she asked him. He gave her an exasperated look as he always did. "I'm putting my neck out for you, I think I deserve to know what the book actually says."

"No."

"Then, no."

Gabriel grumbled.

"Fine. Fine. Fine. You asked for it. So, you know how your favorite dynamic duo went and opened up the gates of Hell?" Gabriel asked, "Well, you know how they let a whole lot of shit out with it?"

"Yes," said Paige stiffly. She had heard that John broke loose from Hell and helped his sons kill Azazel. One more event that she had missed. Yet another slap in her face.

"Well, they released this mega bitch of a demon, Lilith," continued Gabriel, ignoring her tone, "and she is, for lack of a better word, Hell bent on raising my dear brother from his cage."

"Lucifer?"

"The one and only," said Gabriel tersely, "Well, she has to break 66 seals to pop open the box and win the prize inside. Destroying the book is one of them."

"But, if it's protected by angels, isn't it safe?" she asked.

"Yeah… about the angels…" Gabriel said, "They might not be as helpful as you would think."

"About stopping Lucifer?" Paige asked incredulously, "Why not?"

"Because it is written," Gabriel replied with a shrug.

"Yeah, you're gonna have to expand on that if you want my help."

"Fine." Snapped Gabriel, "It is written that during the time of the Winchester sons, the elder of Heaven and the younger of Hell, the world would come to an end. Heaven and Hell would wage another war, pitching Archangel against Archangel, Lucifer against Michael, brother against brother."

"Holy shit,"

"Understatement." He said.

"_What? _And no Angels want to stop it? The end of the fucking _world_?"

"You really think that this is the first time the world ended?" he asked, "I have seen about a thousand , plural. _Your _world ends, not ours."

"Oh," said Paige, at a loss.

"The book," Gabriel continued darkly, "Is _my_ book. A gift from my father. It tells of all the prophets and prophecies and I want it back. I can hardly go marching into where it is hidden and demand it, even though he gave it to _me_," Gabriel suddenly sounded like a very small, possessive child, "They still might sheath a blade into my heart."

"You can die?" asked Paige softly. The idea had never occurred to her.

"Yes." Said Gabriel, matching her tone. It sounded like he had never really believed it before either.

* * *

When Paige woke in the morning, she wasn't sure that she had actually spoken to Gabriel, or if it truly was just a dream. But as she sat up and looked next to her on the bed, she saw his brassy coin staring up at her.

She always kept it tucked away, out of sight, not wanting Jo to ask questions. Now it was sitting on her bedside table, an open phone line.

Paige got dressed and scribbled a note to Jo, claiming to need a walk in the park. She left the motel room hastily.

She pulled the coin from her pocket and flipped it a few times.

_We need to meet to talk out logistics. _She thought to Gabriel, _Where is a safe pla_-

But her train of thought was interrupted as the ground disappeared from beneath her and her stomach leapt up her throat.

She slammed back to earth as she heard the sound of breaking glass. As the room around her spun, she vaguely recognized it as Gabriel's apartment in Budapest. The sound she had heard was Jakab dropping a plate he was holding.

She heard some frantic and disagreeable Slavic language as she felt a warm hand, Jakab's, grip her elbow as she, no doubt, swayed on the spot.

"Vy do you not varn me?" snapped Jakab, looking over his shoulder at Gabriel. Gently to Paige, he guided her to the table. "It is scary first few times, especially," he glared back over at his angel partner, "Vhen you are not expecting."

Paige could tell by Gabriel's stance that Jakab and he had been arguing. She felt awkward at intruding before she realized that Gabriel might have pulled her at exactly that moment in order to guilt Jakab into ending the fight.

Gabriel didn't bother to be as polite as Jakab had been, quickly switching back to Hungarian, saying something in a harsh and final tone.

Jakab glared at him, but turned back to Paige, forcing a smile.

"I am having to leave now, " he shot another venomous look at Gabriel, "But I am wanting… want…" he corrected his English which had gotten sloppy in the heat of his argument," to say goodbye." He said it at Gabriel. Both he and Paige knew that they had little say in the matter.

Gabriel continued to give him a hard look.

Jakab left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Paige sat awkwardly for several seconds, not wanting to be the first to speak. Gabriel's persona was beginning to unravel. In less than twenty-four hours Paige had heard him ask for her help and fight with his boyfriend.

"My book," Gabriel said suddenly, dropping to the seat next to Paige as if the whole thing hadn't happened. "I've tracked it down. It is in California, of all places. Don't get excited, though. Alturas is pretty far inland. No beaches or celebrity sightings for you."

Paige nodded.

"Ok." She said. She mentally calculated how long it would take her to get there from where she and Jo had just killed a werewolf in Price, Utah. "Jo and I can be there in a couple days."

"No. No Jo." Gabriel said, "Just you, pumpkin. It's time to be a big girl do this on your own."

"Why not?" asked Paige, genuinely surprised. She and Jo always did their hunts together.

"Because," said Gabriel, "I'm an angel. Take a poll, almost no hunters have come in contact with us before. We like it that way. Taking Veronica Mars with you means one more hunter who can spill the beans."

"Hell no, " snapped Paige, "If angels are anything like you, I can't be expected to just skip on in there and grab it. I'm going to need back up. I'll get myself killed."

"No you won't." Gabriel said.

"How can you be so sure? " she asked him, "I know that if it comes down to me or the lifestyle to which you've become accustomed, I'll be shit out of luck."

Gabriel gave a small touch of his hat as she accurately described him.

"You won't die." Said Gabriel, "Because _that_ is not how it was written."

* * *

Gabriel dropped Paige at a gas station a few blocks from where she and Jo had been staying in Price, Utah.

When Paige walked back into the motel room, Jo was doing her morning workout, sparing her a sweaty smile as she finished her circuit of push-ups. Jo had no clue that Paige had been halfway across the world less than twenty minutes ago.

"Hey," she said stretching, as she stood, finishing her workout "I'm thinking greasy for breakfast."

"Ok," said Paige, giggling a little at Jo's counter productive morning regimen. "But we need to talk at some point."

"Shoot." Said Jo, not bothering to close the bathroom door as she shed her sweaty clothes and climbed into the motel shower.

Paige stood outside the bathroom.

"I've got to go off on my own for a little bit." Paige shouted over the sound of the running water.

Jo stuck her blonde head outside the shower curtain for a moment, the look on her face questioning if she heard right.

"Like a vacation? Cause, seriously, I could use one too. We're close to Vegas, right?"

"That's not really what I meant…" Paige said, louder as Jo disappeared, once again, behind the curtain. "I've got a job I need to do alone. I don't think it will take long."

The water turned off. Paige handed a dry towel to Jo behind the shower curtain.

"So, wait, what?" asked Jo, emerging with the towel wrapped around her chest.

"I've got a job. I need to do it alone. It's in California." Paige said again, looking at her feet as she said it, "It shouldn't take more than a week, so you can keep the car. I'll hook up with you when it's over."

"What's the gig?" asked Jo, "I would love to help."

"You can't" Paige said, apologetically, "I really need to go alone."

Jo eyed her friend and hunting partner suspiciously. Paige suddenly realized that Jo was remembering Spencer.

"Jo, don't you trust me?" she asked, a little hurt.

"Don't you pull that on me. On _me_." Jo retorted. "Why don't you trust me enough to take me with you?"

"It isn't a trust thing," said Paige, wanting to avoid the argument that Jo was clearly revving up for. Paige wasn't a confrontational person. Jo was the epitome of stubborn arguments.

"I got a call," Paige lifted her cell phone, coming up with the lie on the spot. "There is another hunter who needs my help. They asked for me specifically."

Jo narrowed her eyes.

"Who?" she asked. Jo knew more hunters than Paige did, and she knew Paige well enough to know that she wasn't the kind to go running off to work with someone she barely knew. Suddenly, Jo's eyes light up and she cracked into a knowing smile. "Zapata." She concluded, giggling.

"Wha-?" stumbled Paige. Surprised by Jo's conclusion.

"Good for you." Said Jo, dropping all hostility of their argument before. "You haven't been with anyone since John… Zapata is a really nice guy."

Paige wasn't so sure why her sex life had suddenly become a conversation topic among her friends, but Jo was turning to the mirror, rubbing lotion onto her arms. She had dropped the suspicion and the argument.

Paige decided to use it.

"Yeah… well" Paige said, intentionally awkward, "I mean, he said he has a hunt he could use my help with. I don't think it's anything like that."

Jo giggled and began to apply lotion to her legs.

"C'mon Paige," she said, "Everyone knows that Zapata has totally had a hard on for you since forever. He, literally, couldn't talk about anything else when he came to the bar. And now he wants your (and only your) help tackling a hunt? He could have called Rufus. Pretty obvious."

Paige smiled shyly, playing her part, and excused herself from the bathroom.

Let Jo have her ideas of Paige's whirlwind romance. Let Jo think that Paige was disappearing for a hook-up.

It was better than the truth.

* * *

"Yeah." Said a familiar voice on the other end of the phone line.

"Zapata?" asked Paige.

"Speaking."

"So, remember when you stabbed me?"

"Oh, hey, Paige."

"I need a favor."

"Sure."

"Don't ask me why, but a girl, Jo, might call you. If she asks, tell her I'm with you, Ok?"

"Your hunting partner?" he asked.

Paige wasn't surprised that he knew about them. Female hunters were rare. Packs of hunters were rarer. She and Jo were probably quite a novelty in the hunting community.

"Yeah. She says you met her a at the Roadhouse." Replied Paige. "Small, blonde, stubborn."

"Oh, yeah. So you're with me. " Zapata continued. "Where are we?"

"Alturas California."

"What are we doing together? Hunting?"

"Yup."

"What are we hunting?"

"Just a ghost. Simple salt and burn. You can get creative with the details."

"Ok. How long?"

"I'm not sure yet. Lets say a week."

"A week? For a salt and burn? That leaves a lot of time for…."

"...Yeah."

"So, we're having sex?"

"If she's crude enough to ask, yes. Actually, she probably will be, so yeah. We are."

"Got it."

"Good. Thanks."

"Paige?"

"Yeah?"

"Was I good?" she could practically hear that cocky smile of his over the phone.

"Goodbye, David." she said, rolling her eyes as she hung up.

* * *

**You. Yeah, YOU. Leave a review. Right now. I KNOW that you see the little icon. It's RIGHT THERE. **


	21. Chapter 21: Wuthering Nights II

Paige was walking through thigh high grass, her fingers skimming along the tops of the stalks. The sun shined down on her, warming her through the cool, mountain chill. She was alone, with no place to really be. She smiled in the natural contentment of it.

She didn't have to wait for him to say anything before she knew he was there.

"Really, Gabriel?" she asked in a tired voice, not bothering to turn and face him. "Maybe a cell phone or something."

"Cell phones can be tracked, traced, recorded. This place is practically sacred."

Gabriel took a moment to register his surroundings in Paige's dream.

"Are we in a meadow?"

"Does it matter?" asked Paige, sensing that he was going to make fun of her again. She could tolerate him ridiculing her in real life, but ruining her dreams was a line in the sand.

"We are," Gabriel concluded with a cruel chuckle "I'm pretty sure this is where Bambi's mother got shot, so, you know, watch out."

"Don't fuck with my dreams, Gabriel," Paige snapped. "We're in the Alps, if you must know."

"Why?" asked Gabriel.

"Because they're alive. With songs they have sung for a thousand years."

Gabriel wasn't getting it.

"We're in _The Sound of Music._" Said Paige, sitting in the grass by a bed of flowers. "You know, in the first scene where Julie Andrews is singing? They were playing it at the multiplex so my dad took me to see it for my eleventh birthday."

"Really? I hope you still got a party. You know you can watch this for free on TV, right?"

"No one came to my party. He took me to the movie to distract me."

Gabriel, for once, didn't have anything to say.

"You didn't come here to hear about my childhood. What have you got?"

Gabriel cleared his throat. Paige was a little tickled at the human gesture.

"So, " he said, producing the blueprints of an old school. "They hid it in the Catholic School." He pointed to the library. "They're pretty cocky, so I'm pretty sure that it is in," he pulled out a layout of the library. "here." He pointed to a sketch of a glass display."

"Sounds easy enough. Break into the school at night, sneak into the library, open the case, get the book."

Gabriel and Paige shared a look, both knew that there was no way that it was that easy.

"I'll be watching," Gabriel said, "But I won't be able to appear in town. Dreams are our only way of communication."

Paige nodded.

Gabriel hesitated, then pulled out either a long knife or a short sword. The way he handed it to Paige made her positive that he hadn't been separated from it for a very long time.

"This," he said, handing it to her, "is an archangel's blade. It is one of the only things that can kill angels. "

It was light and warm in Paige's hand. Gabriel darkly watched her handle it.

"Only use it to defend yourself," he ordered.

Paige nodded.

"I won't kill your siblings unless I have to." She ran her thumb along the hilt. "I thought you said that they wouldn't kill me."

Gabriel sighed.

"Well, they probably won't." he admitted, "but I really don't know. If they did, it would be in direct defiance of the prophecy. Angels are incredibly obedient, to the point of a fault. If someone said that my father wanted them all to cut their own eyes out, they'd find the sharpest knife in Heaven and form a line."

He smiled as he thought of his brethren.

"They may torture you to find out who sent you, they may cut off your limbs." Gabriel shrugged, "but they probably won't actually kill you. A prophecy is practically a direct order from God. They're the only blueprints that we have left."

Paige nodded.

Gabriel sat next to her in the meadow. He reached over and pulled a flower from the patch. Twisting it in his fingers, it turned from red to blue then back to red.

He stayed with her like that, in her dream. She saw that he was letting the feeling of contentment and love that came with her memory wash over them both.

When she woke, the blade was lying on the pillow next to her. On top of it was the red flower that Gabriel had held in her dream.

* * *

The school was predictably easy to break into.

Paige had waited until she saw the janitor make his last rounds before she snuck into the cafeteria while he carried a bag of garbage from the kitchen to the dumpster, leaving the door wide open.

Once inside, Paige hid until she heard the click from the lock as the janitor closed up for the night.

It was so quiet that Paige was more than a little on edge as she walked through the hallways, her footsteps echoing through the halls. She held an ordinary knife in her hand, though Gabriel had told her that it wouldn't work on an angel.

They were banking on the fact that the angels would be too afraid to hurt her, afraid to break whatever prophecy that included her, allowing her to take the book without incident. However, both acknowledged that that was an unlikely scenario.

Gabriel said that an angel would be able to recognize his blade, each having their own individual cast of magic over the weapon. She decided not to pull the sword until she was sure that she would need it. There was no sense in getting Gabriel found for nothing.

Paige felt an ominous sense of foreboding as she opened the unlocked library door. It was far too easy.

She saw it, in the center of the display, the crowning jewel of the small town high school. Paige wondered if even they knew how valuable it really was.

Paige looked around the room for the trap. She knew that there had to be one.

She crept forwards, as she approached it, she slid the case open. It, too, was unlocked. Paige reached out and grasped the smooth binding. It wasn't leather, but older still.

She cautiously lifted the delicate book from its stand.

"That doesn't belong to you." Said a woman's voice behind her.

Paige felt a grim chill. She had been expecting to be ambushed, but a small part of her had hoped against hope that she would be able to leave with all her extremities.

Paige turned to see the woman, cocking her head slightly as she looked curiously at Paige. The unusual gesture might have been cute if Paige wasn't sure that the angel could rip her arm off.

"Put it back," the angel ordered.

"Can't do that, sorry." Said Paige, pulling the book closer to her body.

"Who sent you here?" asked the angel, stepping closer to her. Her head still cocked curiously to the side. A lion deciding how best to rip apart its prey.

"No one sent me." Paige said, "I know that someone is out to destroy this. I know that it will help to raise Lucifer from Hell. I like my world, thanks. I don't want it to be destroyed."

"Really?" asked the angel, "You like this?" she glanced around the room with distaste.

"Yes."

"With the wars and the hunger, the pollution, corruption, abuse? This world is about a hundred years past its expiration date. I am ordered to keep the book safe, and yet, I know that Lucifer must be raised. The apocalypse must come to pass. It must go the way it has been written. " She shrugged, "Humans. You are my father's creation, and yet you are… so ungrateful. He created this Earth for you, you destroy it. He created your bodies, your minds, you waste them. Perhaps it is time to start anew?"

Paige used the angel's monologue to think about how she could escape. The angel could easily overpower her. It could easily out run her. Paige was trying to see how to get out without killing her.

The angel gave a resigned sigh.

"Well," she said, pulling her own blade from her side, "If I cannot convince you to put the book back. I'm afraid I must kill you."

"Not so fast," said Paige, "See, I'm in here." She lifted the book.

The angel took a step closer to her, squinting.

"Oh, yes." She said, "I see it now. Dim. But it's there. I cannot kill you. But I can blind you. "

In a motion too fast for Paige to see, the angel lifted her hand, placing in on her head. Paige knew that the moment had come. She grasped the hilt of Gabriel's sword and held it to the angel's neck.

The angel stepped back, surprised. She was looking at the sword.

"My brother?" she whispered. "My brother sent you for his book."

Paige didn't bother to confirm it. The blade in her hand spoke for her.

"Where is he?" she asked, breathless. "Gabriel?" she called into the darkness.

"Hephzibah." Gabriel said coolly, coming from behind her.

"Gabriel?" she murmured, in awe.

Suddenly, she turned and gripped Paige's wrist holding the blade. Twisting Paige's arm in a fluid motion, she wrested the knife from her. She turned back to Gabriel, the blade lifted, ready to strike.

The breathless excitement had been replaced by a grim determination. She had played them both.

He easily caught her arm in the air. Hephzibah gasped in pain as he tightened is grip. He lifted his leg and kicked her, sending her flying across the room. She dropped the blade as she fell back.

He stepped towards her, menacing.

"Do not make me kill you, sister." He said, "We both know that I can. I do not want to."

"Yes," hissed Hephzibah, "Like Lucifer did not want to be cast out of Heaven. If you are not with us, big brother, you are against us."

"It is my book, Hephzibah." He said, "It was father's gift to me."

"Yes, and you threw it away," she retorted. "You, of all of us? God loved you. He granted you a great mission, and you rebelled from his, from our, love."

"It wasn't like that." Gabriel explained, stepping towards her "It wasn't that I no longer loved you, it was that I could no longer blindly follow orders."

"It was same thing," whispered Hephzibah.

She smiled darkly as she pulled a matchbook from her pocket and and dropped a lit match on the floor. A ring of fire surrounded Gabriel.

"You must be punished for your disobedience, brother." Hephzibah said sadly as she circled Gabriel on the outside of the ring, "It would be too much of a risk for us to not set up an angel trap. Especially since we were never sure that you really died after all.

"I will call Raphael." She decided after a moment of considering him, "He will know the best course of action."

"Hephzibah, I'm warning you." Gabriel growled, "Do not do this."

"You leave me no choice." She said. She closed her eyes as she prepared to send a message to Raphael.

Paige took the opportunity to slide Gabriel's blade into Hephzibah's back. As she had trapped and spoken to Gabriel, it lay, forgotten, like Paige, on the floor behind her.

Hephzibah gurgled, then a bright light began to glow from her eyes and mouth.

"Eyes!" Yelled Gabriel, to be heard over the screeching, "Cover your eyes!"

Paige fell to the floor, covering her eyes with her coat, but nothing she could do could silence the shrill, unnatural screech of the angel as she died.

After a few moments, Paige stood. Despite the white spots that appeared in front of her, she saw the angel Hephzibah lying out on the floor. Massive scorched shadows of wings spread from her body.

The angel was dead.

"Paige!" came Gabriel's voice, more strained and urgent than she had ever heard it before. It sounded far away. It took her a few disoriented moments to register his face. He was crying out a warning to her.

Suddenly, reaching across the fire, he gripped her hand. With the strength of only an angel, he jerked her into the ring of fire with him, leaning her weight against his body.

Paige's proximity to his angelic energy brought her senses back to earth with a snap.

She cast a look at Gabriel, then registered that he seemed to be trapped. Another second registered that he was bleeding.

The arm that had reached over the fire and pulled her into him was bloody and blistered. She had never seen so much as a scratch on him before. He clearly could not heal this wound himself.

"Well, well, well," came a small voice. "Holy fire. You think you'd know better by know, wouldn't you?"

Paige had to drop her gave to waist level to see a small girl with bright white demonic eyes, peering across the flames at her.

"And the hits just keep coming," grumbled Gabriel, "Hello, Lilith."

* * *

**Ok, weird side note that probably none of you give a shit about. **

**So, I got the idea for Gabriel's book of prophecies from my internship. There is this super old book (like 626, old) in the archive where I work. Seriously. It's in this vacuum sealed, temperature and humidity regulated room. We're not even allowed to touch it with our bare hands. **

**Get this, it was made BEFORE leather was popular. The pages are made from FUCKING PIG'S BLADDER! **

**Yeah. Is my internship awesome or is my internship awesome?**


	22. Chapter 22:Wuthering Nights III

**Hi Kids,**

**Gabriel Gabriel Gabriel, am I right? **

**This chapter has lots of him. Probably a lot in the next one too. Then we're going to take a little break from our favorite flawed archangel. You're smart cookies. You'll be able to guess why by the end of the chapter. After that, I'm probably going to take a break from publishing for my summer hiatus (Guatemala! En dos semanas! Estoy emocionado!)**

**So, I don't like to be a bossy pants and tell you what to do, but I'm going to be on ice for seven weeks. If you're following the story, make the commitment and subscribe so you know when I return! I love you all for reading! Extra love to SprakleSparkle and Straight Edge Queen for loyally leaving me reviews! **

* * *

"Gabriel." Said Lilith, smiling evilly, "Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel. You've gotten yourself a smart mouth in the past few millennia." She sighed, "You seem different from the last time I saw you, during the first war between our fathers. I believe you almost killed me. Almost."

"You can't kill an angel, Lilith." Gabriel said in bored voice. "Your father was clever enough to create you so that you couldn't kill him. You can't cross the flames of the Holy Fire either. I can easily wait here for eternity. You, however, are on a tight schedule, I believe."

"Yes, you can outlast me." She said with a shrug, "but your little girlfriend," She looked to Paige, "will starve to death in a few days. Or is it dehydration that kills humans faster? I always forget. You know me; I've never had the patience to kill one the long way. It is so much more satisfying to bleed them dry."

"I can heal her starvation." Gabriel said firmly.

"No you can't." said Lilith, grinning, "You reached across the Holy Fire. That burn of yours is going to spread, zapping you of your powers slowly. Yes, you can live forever, but a few thousand years with an unattended holy burn will reduce you to nothing more than a human who will never know the sweet relief of death. Give me the damn book. I'll let you go."

"I don't think so. You don't have a thousand years to wait," said Gabriel, calling Lilith's bluff.

She nodded in agreement.

"So," she said, "It appears, then, that we are at an impasse."

"It would appear so."

At some point during their dialogue, the arm that Gabriel had wrapped around Paige as he held her protectively against him had begun to lean on her. Paige noted that the burn in his arm was, in fact, spreading. He was using the pretext of holding Paige to use her to keep himself upright.

Gabriel had entered her dreams, and Paige hoped that he had enough angel mojo to read her mind.

While Lilith and Gabriel spoke, Paige was frantically trying to figure out how to get out of the situation. Lilith had said that she could wait the few days it would take Paige to die of natural causes, and Paige was not eager to test her.

Gabriel had been able to pull her into the fire with him, though he seemed to have suffered dearly for it. Unlike Lilith and him, Paige seemed to be able to cross the divide. Gabriel had said that she couldn't kill angels, so he, at least, was safe from her.

Scooting her body closer to him, Paige pressed the hilt of his blade back into his hand, hoping beyond hope that he could see where she was going with her plan and he could react quickly. Wounded or not, Gabriel was the only thing separating her from a very bloody death at Lilith's hand.

As fast as she could, which was still probably quite slow for the angel and demon, Paige pulled her coat up over her head, and threw herself onto the flame of the fire, breaking the ring.

"Bitch!" shrieked Lilith as soon as she realized what Paige had done. It was an odd sound coming from the small child she was using as a vessel. She grabbed a handful of Paige's hair and pulled her off the flame.

It was too late, Gabriel had already broken free.

Jerking the child's hand from Paige, he lifted the little girl well off her feet, holding his blade to her neck.

He did not strike her.

Lilith grinned and turned her attention back to Paige, lifting her palm.

A bright white light began to grow behind her eyes and concentrated at her hand.

Gabriel dropped the demon child and ran over to where Paige was still laying, on the ground, covered in burns. He dropped himself over her, using his body as a shield.

Paige barely had time to take a breath before the ground disappeared and she was once again consumed by the now familiar feeling of traveling through time and space.

* * *

They landed with a loud thump on the hardwood floors of Gabriel's home in Budapest.

Gabriel was still on top of her although he was no longer acting as a shield. His limp body weight was heavy on her. She scrambled to push him off.

His eyes fluttered as he tried to regain some semblance of his signature confidence. Paige could see that the teleportation had drained him greatly. His burn from his arm had spread to the point where it disappeared beneath the singed fabric of his sleeves and began to reappear at his neck. Paige bent down and unbuttoned his shirt to see the extensiveness of his wound. She fought back a wave of nausea as she saw the blisters across his chest.

"So, is it as good as it was in your dreams?" he asked, smiling. Despite his bravado, the mischievous glint had disappeared from his eyes.

"Hello?" called Jakab, entering the room, "Fredrich?"

He stopped short as he saw Gabriel on the floor with the burns marring his body. The shock and terror in his eyes told Paige that in all their time together; he too had never seen the angel injured.

"Vat happened?" he demanded of Paige. He registered the burns on Paige's body as well. "Fire?"

"Yeah," said Paige, distractedly. She looked back to Gabriel and then around the apartment, hoping to see something to indicate how to help him. "How do we heal this?"

"Soul," Gabriel said in a voice heavy with pain. "I can touch a human soul and heal myself. Probably."

"Soul. Got it." Paige said, "How do we get one?"

Even through his suffering, the angel spared the energy to laugh darkly at her.

"I'm surrounded by two of them."

"Our souls?" she asked, glancing up at Jakab who was still silent as he looked at his lover. "How? Logistically?"

Gabriel pulled himself up so that he was resting on his one good elbow.

"I can reach into you and touch it." He said, "It will hurt you very much. I've only done it twice before. The first time I accidentally killed the human."

"But not the second?" Paige asked.

"No."

"Ok," said Paige with bleak resolution, "Gabriel, where do you need to touch me?"

Gabriel lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing her abdomen. Though Gabriel's burns were more extensive and concerning, Paige's own welts were considerable.

Gabriel then laid his burned hand against her stomach. He looked up at her, giving her her last opportunity to back out of it.

Paige nodded, bracing herself.

"Vait." Said Jakab, suddenly. He hurriedly pulled his own shirt off of himself and grabbed Gabriel's wrist holding it to his own stomach. "Me." He said.

"No," said Gabriel, shaking his head, "Jakab, no."

"Yes." Said Jakab seriously. "Let me help you, Fredrich."

"It will hurt."

"I have been hurt before."

"I may make a mistake. You could die." Gabriel's voice was soft.

"Ni hibazni." Said Jakab with a strained smile.

Jakab leaned down and held his lips to Gabriel's. He stroked the angel's face lovingly with a sad fear in his expression. Gabriel mirrored the gesture, holding his hand against Jakab's face. Jakab turned his head, and kissed the palm against his cheek.

He was saying goodbye.

Gabriel pressed his burned and blistered hand against Jakab's stomach. Jakab let out a yell of pain. His head fell forward as he passed out from the pain. Gabriel caught him and held Jakab's head against his shoulder, stroking his hair in an affectionate and soothing gesture.

Rapidly, the burns were disappearing from Gabriel's flesh, making the angry, peeling red skin smooth once more. After a few more seconds, Gabriel delicately pulled his hand from Jakab's stomach.

"He'll be ok?" asked Paige.

"Yeah." Said Gabriel, "Yeah, he'll be fine." He rolled Jakab off of him, leaning him against the couch.

He turned to Paige, and as if just realizing it, he took in her burns. He reached across her, healing her skin.

Paige let out a sigh of relief as the burns disappeared.

"So…" she ventured into the silence as they both watched Jakab sleep on the floor. "Lilith."

"My brother created her as the first demon." Gabriel explained, "She is more powerful than any other that you will ever encounter. But, my brother is not a _complete _idiot. She cannot kill an angel. He may be the king of Hell, but he's still an angel."

"I meant…" Paige faltered, "I meant that you didn't kill her."

Gabriel rubbed his hand across the back of his neck.

"No." he said, "I know the prophecies. Better than anyone, I know my Father's plan. She cannot die. Yet. She will be killed though, in the end."

"You know the future." She said.

"Yes." He said, "I know the general outline, but the details are no more clear to me than to you. For example, I know that there will be a prophet. I know what their name will be, I know what they will see and what they will say, but I have no concept of their appearance or personality."

"So you're just going to let it end?" asked Paige, "All of it? This world?"

"That is how my father wrote it."

"But you rebelled," Paige cried, frustrated, "Why are you following the prophecies of a man you no longer obey?"

She had touched a nerve.

"I _love_ my father." He snapped, "He is wise. He has a plan. If things go according to what he laid out, we know what the future holds."

"War, right? Death? Your brothers killing each other? Those are your father's plans?"

"You think there will be no war if we do not follow what is foretold? You think things will continue to be hunky dory?" asked Gabriel, "At least this way, we know what will happen. Chaos is no safer than the prophecy. At least this way we know what to expect."

"Gabriel, but I don't want the world to end." Said Paige, weakly.

"You think I like watching my family rip itself apart?" he asked gently. "We are not so different from you. We love. It is a different kind of love, but it is our own."

"But …"

"No." he said, "Leave it be. It will be as it was written. Neither of us can change that," He paused for a moment. "C'mon." said Gabriel, "Help me get Jakab in bed."

Gabriel didn't need her help, as both of them knew perfectly well. He wanted to change the subject.

Paige nodded, standing. Gabriel lifted Jakab easily and carried him to their bedroom. Paige was unsurprised by the ornate four-poster bed with a luxurious white fluffy comforter. He gently laid Jakab down.

"Ok, get in." he said.

"Gabriel, I feel like every time I'm here, you're putting me to bed."

"That's not true. Last time you slept on the couch. With Goliath. Tonight you can sleep in the bed with Jakab and me."

"I think I'd prefer Goliath."

Gabriel rolled his eyes and pressed his hands on the tops of Paige's shoulders, forcing her to sit on the bed.

"Something's missing," he considered as he looked at Paige and Jakab in the bed.

"Ah, yes." He said. He walked out of the room then reentered with a squirming, wiggly Goliath. He dropped the dog into Paige's lap. "There we go. Much better. My favorite earthly things in one place."

Paige raised her eyebrows at him.

"Jakab and Goliath, of course."

Paige sniggered, but at the moment, Goliath curled into a ball on her side. She bent down and stroked his fur.

She watched the dog for several minutes and then drifted off to sleep.

* * *

After Paige fell asleep, Gabriel climbed into the large ornate bed that Jakab had picked out from a catalogue. He sandwiched himself between his two favorite humans, so delicate, dirty and flawed.

Goliath got up from where he was curled with Paige and laid closer to Gabriel. Even the dog could sense the energy of the otherworldly being. It closed its eyes in ecstasy and then stretched in an impossibly undignified manner.

Gabriel scratched the dog's stomach and wished that his humans were as easy to please.

Jakab was getting restless. Tired of being holed up in the apartment, not allowed to contact any humans from the outside, not allowed to get a job or really do anything at all.

And Paige, well, she was frustrating and sad and amusing to watch. She had told him, (shouted, to be more accurate) that she wished he had let her die. As he watched her sleep, all the reasons that he rebelled were coming back to him.

He couldn't. For all his rebellion, he couldn't let the prophecy disappear. It was supposed to be his job to take care of the prophets and their bloodlines. His job to keep them safe until they fulfilled whatever needed to be fulfilled.

It had always been his duty to be here with her.

She still didn't ask what exactly the book had in store for her. Yet. Luckily the end of the world took a higher priority in her book than her own personal destiny. Gabriel vaguely wondered if she even really cared. Her words rang in his memory as strong as the day she first said them, surprising even herself. '_Exactly_.' she had yelled at him when he reminded her that she would be dead if it wasn't for him. _'Exactly_' she had used as her argument when she said she was better off without him.

Laying on her side, with her back to him, Gabriel's eye landed on the bulge in her coat pocket. His book. The book that told him who had to die and suffer and watch those around them do the same. The book that laid out the prophecies, dark and bloody and cruel.

It was the book that had told him that he would have to watch his brother's kill each other. It was the book that told him he would have to take children from their mothers. There was nothing in that book but duty and orders to follow.

Gabriel reached into the coat, the book was in the inside pocket.

"Hey, watch your hands, mister." Grumbled a sleepy Paige.

"Maybe this is just another of your sexy dreams."

"Nope," said Paige as she turned to face him, "In those dreams you are, thankfully, silent. Nothing kills wood faster than your stupid voice."

She began to pet Goliath who was curled between her and Gabriel. She looked at the book in his hands.

"Worth it?" she asked.

"Yeah." Said Gabriel. "Yeah, it was. Go back to sleep. Dream of me, quietly rocking your body like a hurricane."

Paige rolled her eyes but turned onto her stomach. Gabriel touched her forehead, sending her off.

Gabriel climbed out of the bed, still holding his book.

His.

His father's orders. His duty. His job to watch the suffering, the wars, the prophecies. Making sure that no matter what, they went exactly to his father's sadistic plan.

Walking into the kitchen, Gabriel pulled out a vial of the Holy Oil he kept locked up, just in case. Carefully, he poured it into the sink, splashing some on his book.

Gabriel stared at the page for a second before it ignited.

He dropped the lit match in with it, smiling at the irony. Burning the prophecies in order to bring them to life.

* * *

"I swear, you always seem to be in the kitchen," greeted Paige as she walked into Gabriel's kitchen the next morning. Jakab was standing, washing dishes and Gabriel was out somewhere.

"Vell, Fredrich eats a lot," explained Jakab, smiling in return. The smile didn't travel to his eyes. Paige looked at him for a moment, wondering why his usually cheerful mood was so dark. "You called him Gabriel." Jakab explained.

"That is his true name."

"I am happy, that you are a voman." He said finally, sounding anything but, as he turned to the sink "I vould be very jealous if you vere another man."

"Jealous? Why?"

"You are very young, and very pretty. You are not so young as to not know vy." He said, evenly.

"Like, oh." Paige said, "You think he and I are… no, really, not at all. Never. Ever. We're so not like that. Ask him. He's pretty sure that I like chicks."

"I know dat he disappears," said Jakab, "He is very good at hiding it. But I know is vith others ven he is not vith me."

"I'm not one of them," Paige insisted, "Really, Jakab, me and Gabriel… Fredrich… never going to happen."

Jakab gave her a hard stare for a moment.

"I believe you," he said with a resigned sigh, "I vish he vould tell me tings he tells you. It vas OK ven he would disappear and reappear alone. I tought he kept secrets from everybody. But… he keeps bringing you home vith him." He paused, "You know vat he really is, don't you?"

"I think I do," Paige said, uneasily, "I guess I can't be too sure. I mean, he still keeps a lot of secrets from me."

"Is he an Edvard?"

Paige stared at him, trying to decipher what he meant through his accent.

"A what?" she asked, giving up.

Jakab held up one finger, telling her to wait as he walked out of the room. He returned, dropping a book on the counter in front of her.

"Is he an Edvard?" he asked again.

Paige stared at the book and then looked at Jakab to see how serious he was. Seeing his steady stare, she couldn't help but burst out into riotous laughter.

"An _Edward?_" she asked, shaking with laughter, lifting Jakab's version of _Twilight_ up to him.

"Vell," stared Jakab, "He is very strong. He does not age. Maybe not an 'Edvard' because Edvard is sort of a, how you say in English, pussy? But maybe something like him."

Paige tried her best to subdue her laughter.

"Oh, God, sorry, Jakab. I'm sorry. When you say it that way, yeah, I could see how you could think that," She giggled again, "But, c'mon, even in Hungary you have to realize that those books are written for teenage girls."

Jakab gave a rueful smile.

"Vell, yeah." He admitted, "I have a lot of time. I just… I vish I knew more about him."

Paige bit her lip, wondering how much to tell him. Most of the time, Gabriel didn't scare her anymore. Even when she was telling him to fuck off, she landed somewhere on his good side. But the one thing that he had always been deadly serious about (literally) was his identity. Gabriel could still kill her without a great deal of effort or second thought.

But, Paige looked at Jakab who gave his whole life and heart to the angel. She decided that after the night before, the archangel could cut her some slack.

"You can never tell him that you know," she said in a low voice, "Ever. He is so serious about this."

Jakab nodded and leaned in closer.

"He's an angel."

This time it was Jakab who looked at her as if trying to decide how seriously to take her.

"You are kidding vith me." He said.

"No, I'm not. He's an angel. Or was, I guess. I'm not really sure how that works. He rebelled from Heaven."

"Fredrich cannot be an angel." Said Jakab.

"He's not." Said Paige, annoyed by Jakab's disbelieving tone. "Gabriel is."

"If he was an angel…" Jakab's voice grew strained, "He vould not be vith me."

"He _is_ an angel," Paige insisted.

"So, angels are real?" asked Jakab, rubbing his misty eyes.

"Yeah." Said Paige, "Don't get too excited though. Most of them are kind of assholes."

Jakab grinned. He turned back to his kitchen.

"Vat do you vant to eat?" he asked in a better mood "Fredri…Gabriel ate all de pancakes."

"This will sound weird…" said Paige, " And it isn't an offense to your cooking. But do you think we could go out for breakfast? I just, I feel weird that I've been here three times and have never actually seen Budapest. I've never been out of my country before."

Jakab pursed his lips as he considered.

"Yes," he said, quickly making his way to the door, "Let's go."

* * *

"Jo reggelt" Paige tried.

Jakab laughed at her accent.

"It is 'Good Morning!'" he teased, "Say it like you mean it, Jo reggelt!"

"Jo Reggelt!" Paige tried again, laughing.

Jakab grabbed her wrist and dragged her along the street. The two had been wandering the city for most of the morning, Jakab trying, hopelessly, to teach Paige a few phrases in Hungarian. Paige was pretty sure that he had no real interest in teaching her to communicate. He was simply having a riot as he listened to her struggle. Paige didn't mind, she was enjoying Jakab's good mood.

"Oh, shut up, Edvard." joked Paige. "Please, God, can I be there when you tell Gabriel about your theory? Please?"

Jakab smiled.

"So, dere really are no such ting as vampires?" he asked.

"Yeah, a few. They're really rare. Not something you have to worry about."

"I vasn't really worried." Said Jakab, slowly, "I vas… never mind."

"What?" asked Paige.

"Vell, Edvard loved Bella. Edvard was going to live forever. At the end, he made Bella into a vampire too and dey lived together for eternity."

"Oh," said Paige. She had never thought about Jakab and Gabriel's relationship from Jakab's point of view before. She had wondered how Gabriel would feel when his lover died. It never occurred to her to think about how Jakab would feel as he grew old with a lover who never aged a day. If Gabriel was a vampire, then there was hope that Jakab could be with him forever. Paige wondered how many years of wishful dreams of immortal love she had dashed in a few seconds.

"Gabriel has had many lovers like me, no?"

Paige was silent. That was all the confirmation that Jakab needed.

"I promised you breakfast." Said Jakab with a new determination.

He reclaimed Paige's wrist and started walking down a narrow alleyway. However, the bright mood from earlier had disappeared. Paige looked closely at Jakab and saw that he was seething.

"Jakab," Paige said timidly, trying not to set him off, "Where are we going?"

"I know place by the palace." He said, "Trust me, you love."

Paige noted his clipped English. Last time that had happened he had been incredibly upset. He wasn't an archangel, but the man was still considerably bigger than her. Paige realized that she needed to stop thinking about Jakab as Gabriel's little _Twilight _reading boy toy and remember what Jakab had told her the first night they met.

"Wait, Ok, stop. " Paige said, pulling her wrist from his grip, "What's the matter with you?"

"Fifteen years." Jakab spat, "Fifteen years and I never know. You know everting. You? Some little girl? He tell everyting. Me? Noting."

"I think he wants to keep you safe." Paige started, "He loves you."

"Prisoner." Growled Jakab.

Realization suddenly dawned on Paige.

"Jakab," she asked, "When was the last time that you were out of the apartment?"

"Fifteen years ago." Jakab snapped.

"Oh, shit, Jakab, we have to go back. Now."

"No, you go. You be his kurva. I am adult man. I am not his prisoner. I am not _his._"

Jakab stormed off, leaving her there.

* * *

_Shit._ Paige thought. _Shit. Shit. Shit. _

She was alone and very lost in an unfamiliar city. She didn't have a passport, or money. She didn't speak the language or know anyone besides an ex soldier who was probably wanted for war crimes. The ex soldier who had just stormed off.

The only other person who could help her would be Gabriel himself. Gabriel who would be all kinds of terrifying when he found out that Paige had blurted his biggest secret then set his boyfriend loose on the city.

Either way Paige looked at it, she was very, very fucked.


	23. Chapter 23: Wuthering Nights IV

**This is the last Wuthering Nights section. I want you to know that I am very lazy at coming up with chapter titles. **

**So, the beginning of this story is really just a manifestation of my very real fears about going to a foreign country, alone. That's the mugging part, not the gay sex part. I'm cool with gay sex. Mugging, I can live without. And, you know, I'm going to Guatemala City. Open a newspaper. A little more sketchy than Budapest. **

** In case you haven't seen me mention it a billion times: GUATEMALA! In, like, a week. Opportunity of a lifetime in, like, seven days. **

**I may publish again before I go. I may not. We'll see. **

**So, I hope you all like Jakab. I do. I love the side of Gabriel he brings out. Even though he doesn't know exactly what Gabriel is, he understands the archangel better than anyone. Better than Paige and much better than Gabriel himself. So, it's complicated, but very, very sweet. There's a lot of them together in this chapter.**

**If you don't like Jakab, well, you can suck it for not leaving me reviews. So, leave me some reviews. Do it.**

* * *

It was starting to get dark and Paige was still wandering around the city.

Despite the warm breeze, she shivered as she passed a few men, leaning against an alleyway, speaking in hushed Hungarian.

Paige highly doubted that her knowledge of how to say "good morning" would be of much help. But, if she were in an American city, she still probably would not have asked the shady men for help either.

She figured that her best bet for surviving the strange city, then the ticked archangel, would be for her to find Jakab and convince him to go back to Gabriel with her.

However, for all she knew, Jakab was on an airplane trying to get the hell out of Budapest.

"Te elvesett?" crooned a man's voice as he was leaning on a parked car. Paige didn't know what he had said, but she could tell from his expression that he wasn't trying to help her.

As she walked past him, she heard his footsteps behind her, following her. The hair on her neck stood high on her back and her spine dripped ice cold adrenaline down her back.

"Hova megy, szep?" the man behind her called again.

Paige quickened her pace. As she looked ahead of her, three men were looking at her the same way that the first one was. As if she was a walking target. They blocked the road in front of her, so she quickly turned down an alleyway to avoid them.

She regretted her decision as the alley began to narrow. She had realized even before she hit the sealed off roadway that she had fallen straight into their trap. She turned slowly, seeing all four men blocking her in.

"Ve von't hurt you." Said the tallest, a man about Paige's age. "Give us your money, you can go back to your hotel."

"I don't have any money." Said Paige.

The tallest laughed to himself and at his friends, enjoying Paige's joke.

"An American vithout money. You must tink ve are babies."

"Close," said Paige, stalling for time as she squeezed the only content of her pocket, Gabriel's coin. She hoped that the panic she felt would be enough to communicate her need. She couldn't form coherent thoughts apart from those she was saying. "The phrase is actually, 'born yesterday.' So, you would say, 'You must think we were born yesterday' not 'We are babies.'"

The tallest smiled again, but his eyes were dark and mean. His friends snickered at him behind his back as she corrected him.

"Americans." He snarled, "So funny. So arrogant. So rich. Your money and any jewelry." He ordered again.

"I already told you that I don't have any."

"Vat is in your pocket?"

Paige chose not to answer. Gabriel had had several minutes to come and help her, but the alleyway remained silent. He was leaving her handing out to dry, probably in response to her pulling at all the loose threads in his life until they unraveled. Gabriel wouldn't let her die. Probably. But he also wouldn't drop whatever he was doing to stop her from getting her ass kicked, especially if he thought she deserved it.

Letting her get mugged would definitely fall under the category of something the archangel would do.

Paige glanced around the alleyway, looking for potential weapons. She was a hunter, after all.

The fire escape to her immediate left promised to help her fight any height disparity between her and her attackers. She saw a trash can behind the muggers. Loud, as well as useful if she would wield it properly.

She took a deep breath, hoping that she was as fast as the thought.

"Don't vorry." Said the tallest attacker, kindly, "Ve vill let you keep your passport."

As he took a step forward, Paige made a great leap for the lowest rung of the fire escape.

Probably taken by surprise, the muggers watched her hoist her self more securely. As one stepped forward to grab her, she aimed a kick at his ear. The force of her hit caused him to stumble into the alley wall.

The tallest caught onto her game and wrapped his long arms around her legs, yanking her from the fire escape. He was holding her legs, so it was the back of her head that saw stars as she landed harshly on the ground.

Despite that, she leaned up and punched the tallest man in the face.

He let out a yell.

One of the other two men stepped forward, and Paige felt the cold hard blade of a knife against her cheek.

However, without warning, that man let out a cry as he was lifted off the ground and thrown against the wall.

Gabriel wasted no time in peeling the tallest man, who was still holding Paige by the legs, off of her. Holding his hand against the man's head, he rendered him unconscious.

The fourth man ran off down the alleyway.

Gabriel didn't speak as he grabbed Paige roughly by her upper arm and teleported.

* * *

Paige was getting used to the sensation breaking apart and re-materializing. She would have been able to remain standing if Gabriel hadn't shoved her as they both made contact with the expensive mahogany wood floors of his apartment.

He didn't shove her with all his might, like he could have, but enough to knock her off her feet.

Enough to show her that he was livid.

Paige had a couple of scrapes and bruises from her scuffle with the muggers, but she knew that Gabriel wouldn't heal her. As far as he was concerned, she got what she deserved and was lucky that he intervened in the first place.

And she was grateful.

Gabriel was pissed, but it didn't look like he was going to kill her. She was glad to see the angel, even if he was upset.

After a moment, Paige realized that the apartment was disorganized.

Usually spotless and tidy when she would appear, the place was disheveled. On the table in the kitchen a huge map of the city was laid out. Books and other maps lay abandoned on the floor, making a trail from the bookcase.

The way that Gabriel dropped familiarly into the chair as he studied the map told Paige that he was returning to the task that he was in the middle of when she called him.

He stared at it, as if waiting for it to say something to him.

Paige timidly stepped forwards.

"Where's Jakab?" she asked

"Working on it." He said, tersely.

Paige took a moment to study the map as well, clearly not seeing whatever it was that Gabriel was looking for. After a few minutes, she spoke again.

"Can I help?"

"No, you've done plenty, thanks." He said in the same clipped tone, still not looking up from the map.

Paige nodded and stood back.

"Where was the last place you saw him." Gabriel asked with a resigned sigh.

"You can't, you know, sense him, or something?"

"No." said Gabriel, "I made him invisible to angels to protect him from being found by my family, who could then follow the trail of breadcrumbs to me. I'm an angel. I think you see where I'm going with this."

"I don't know where we were." Said Paige, apologetically, "That was kind of my problem, you know, in getting back."

"Well, what time did you guys make your escape?"

"Maybe ten or so in the morning."

Gabriel winced at the time, clearly having had to previous concept of how long they had been gone. He put his head in his hands and he kept looking at the map, as if willing it to say or do something.

"It's my fault, Gabriel." Muttered Paige.

Gabriel didn't look up, but waved his hand in the air, dismissing her apology.

"I knew he was getting restless. That sometimes happens every ten or twenty years in their lives. It's always a little worse for men than women. I should have been more careful. Or moved. Maybe Jakab would like Morocco. "

Gabriel was rambling. He was nervous. It was an unsettling emotion to see on the stoic angel.

"So, you're going to find him and take him away to a different country? That's your solution?"

"Look, miss independent, what is your solution? He can't wander around and have a _normal_ life while he's with me. He reeks of me. He's a sitting duck for any god, demon, angel or any combination of such. Not to mention the fact that he's a great big neon sign saying that I'm alive. I can mask my magic signature to look like a Trickster, but Jakab smells unquestionably like an angel's little fuck toy."

"He's more than your 'fuck toy' Gabriel. It's so obvious."

"Exactly." Gabriel admitted. "Don't you know what they would do to him for information on me? Even the angels torture." He shivered, as if remembering, "He'll never be safe."

Gabriel's eyes snapped back to the map, seeing something that Paige's human eyes couldn't.

"Don't run away again." Gabriel told her shortly, and then vanished.

He reappeared almost instantly with Jakab in tow.

Despite the fact that Jakab was significantly taller and more muscular than Gabriel's vessel, he was stooping slightly as Gabriel, no doubt, used his angelic strength to lower Jakab to his level.

"Paige, I am so sorry." Jakab said quickly and earnestly as he saw her. "I vas upset and I left. I vas looking for you all day aftervard."

Paige gave Jakab a weak smile.

"I was just going into this room… "She pointed awkwardly to the living room, "To sit quietly with my hands over my ears while you two… talk."

"That won't be necessary." Gabriel said, releasing Jakab.

"Yes, it vill." Snapped Jakab, "Ve need to talk, Freid… Gabriel."

Gabriel's eyes shot to Paige when Jakab said his true name. He suddenly comprehended what Paige meant when she said that it was all her fault.

"My apartment is across de hall." Jakab said to her. "You are velcome dere."

Paige nodded and walked as quickly as she could without actually jogging to the door, to get away from the archangel and his boyfriend.

* * *

Jakab wasted no time in switching not to Hungarian, but his native, Serbian language as he rounded on Gabriel.

The archangel spoke all languages fluently, but because of appearances he and Jakab usually spoke in Hungarian to each other. The fewer people that suspected Jakab of his past life and crimes, the better.

The man opened his mouth as if to yell, but seemed unable to decide where to start. Gabriel took a deep breath and started.

"How much do you know?" he asked, looking up at his lover.

"I know enough." Retorted Jakab, "I know that you are old, and powerful and not human. I've known the last part for a while. But, Freid… Gabriel, I know that you cannot save me."

"What do you mean 'save' you?" the angel did a quick once over of the man, as if to double check, "You aren't sick."

"From dying." Snapped Jakab." You can't save me from growing old and dying."

"Oh," said Gabriel, softly, "No. No, I really can't."

"I thought…" started Jakab, "I thought we would live together forever. I thought I was special, to you. I didn't mind before… staying here, with you and no one else… because I thought you loved me. But, "Jakab's voice broke, "But you have hand many like me. Tell me, how many?"

"You're all different." Gabriel started, knowing that Jakab would be more upset with a true answer. "You're different from the others, Jakab"

Jakab snorted.

"Yes, I'm sure." He said, "How many times have you said that? You're my everything, Gabriel. I'm just one of many. How many, really? I want to know."

"A few thousand." Said Gabriel flatly, "I've said it a few thousand times. Each time I meant it. Each of you were different. Does that make you feel better now?"

Jakab looked away for a moment, his eyes misting over.

"Thousand," he mouthed the word without sound. "So many… it's one of those words that is so inconceivably large. It doesn't seem real. A few thousand?" he asked.

Gabriel gave him an unflinching stare.

"Yes."

"And what? We are like toys? We get to be so old that we aren't cute or sexy anymore and you leave us? Find another, younger model?"

"Do you remember what I said that first night in Istanbul?" asked Gabriel, "I told you that I would always take care of you. When you're old, and senile and sick, I will take care of you. Age doesn't scare me like it scares you. It means nothing to me, just another stage in your lives."

"Istanbul." Jakab repeated, shaking his head and smiling, wetly, "Of course you would bring up Istanbul."

"You remember it?"

"It was the first time I ever made love to a man." Said Jakab, turning to Gabriel.

"The room was so expensive. The view was amazing. You pressed me up against the window as you kissed me that first time."

Gabriel remembered the cold glass of the window under his hands as he pinned Jakab there. He remembered Jakab's reluctance. Jakab had always been a strong and masculine type. He had hesitated over the sheer gender of it. The idea of being with another man, as if it would make him less so.

Gabriel could alter his vessel, of course. He could become a woman for Jakab. But he had wanted to stay in his favorite form. His average height, average build vessel had been his for almost a thousand years, since he adopted the identity of the Scandinavian demi-god. Like driving a familiar car or walking a familiar route, there was comfort in the flesh of his vessel in that form. He wanted to be with Jakab that first time in as honest of his form as he could be.

And when sex was added to the comfort and connection he already felt to his skin and bones and human pleasures, it was mind blowing. Not to mention the fact that Gabriel got an extra kink in watching the strong man that he had chosen, kiss and touch another man's body for the first time. The stubble of beard against his thigh, the large hands, clumsier, yet more insistent than an woman's, gave Gabriel an extra high.

Gabriel remembered how proud Jakab had looked when he first brought Gabriel to climax using only his hand and tongue. He looked up at Gabriel , over his sweaty and spent body, licking a little bit of Gabriel off his lips, with such a proud and excited expression as he saw the power he had over him. And Jakab did wield power over the angel.

"You tasted salty and sweet," Jakab continued in his reverie. "You were so tight and hot."

Jakab had climbed up and over Gabriel, rolling him onto his stomach on the expensive bedding of the hotel. Jakab enjoyed manhandling Gabriel, keeping his masculinity intact by being the one calling the shots. Gabriel had been more than happy to let him.

Gabriel's gasp as Jakab began exploring him had given the human the idea that he was on the right track. He kept touching, probing, exploring the new sex until Gabriel hissed a plea through his teeth.

Jakab was rough and fast the first time, yet not unskilled. As he was inside him, Jakab would run his fingers and hands along Gabriel's back, sending shock waves of pleasure to the already trembling man beneath him.

Gabriel remembered holding the sheets tightly between his fingers. He remembered the sounds that Jakab gasped and moaned as he rode him. When Jakab gave a final tremor, he fell against Gabriel's back. They laid like that for a while, Jakab stroking the broad, softer, but still definitively masculine shoulder blades beneath him.

"Ok." He had whispered into Gabriel's ear from his back. He was still inside of him as he gave Gabriel permission to take care of him, to love him.

"Yes." Jakab continued with a note of lust in his voice, obviously remembering the same things that Gabriel did, "Yes, I remember Istanbul." Jakab's voice grew soft again, defeated. "But how many Istanbuls have there been for you?"

"There is only one Istanbul." Said Gabriel, "We used to call it Constantinople, and before that it had many names, of course, for a while it had no name, but same city."

"That isn't what I meant."

"I know."

"I love you, Fredrich. Gabriel. Whatever your name is. I love you." Jakab said it with hesitation in his voice.

Gabriel didn't need his angel senses to know what would come next. He closed the distance between them, resting his head against Jakab's neck, where he rose to on him.

"Then don't talk like this. Don't run away again. Stay with me, I will never let anything hurt you."

"You know that I can't." muttered Jakab, wrapping his arms tightly around Gabriel, nonetheless. "I can't do this anymore. I can't live only for you. I need freedom, and space and humans to love and grow old with me. That's what I need."

Gabriel swallowed the tears that dared to come to his eyes. This was not the first time that something like this had happened, but every time it did, Gabriel was positive that he wouldn't live through it. Through saying goodbye. Through everything he would have to do.

"I have to take away the memories." Gabriel said into Jakab's chest, "You will be in danger as long as you can remember me. I have to take away Istanbul. And Bangkok. And Buenos Aires. You won't remember my name, or my face." Gabriel pressed his lips into Jakab's throat. "Or my hands" Gabriel ran those hands across Jakab's chest. "Or my lips," Gabriel began kissing Jakab's neck and ears.

Jakab sighed at the familiarity of it.

"I cannot live the rest of my life seeing the world through hotel windows." He said, "I'm alone, Gabriel. I have you, but you don't understand what it's like to have an end on the horizon. I'm almost forty, Gabriel. I'm almost half way through my life. It is short. I wish to live it."

Gabriel nodded, turning away from Jakab and avoiding his eyes. Jakab let him pull out of his arms.

"You should say goodbye to Paige." Said Gabriel in a cold, mechanical voice. "You won't remember her either."

"What about our goodbyes?" asked Jakab.

"You won't remember them anyways." Said Gabriel bitterly.

* * *

Paige entered Jakab's apartment cautiously. In layout and décor, it was very similar to Gabriel's. Large, ornate wooden pieces of furniture. A little more subtle in color than Gabriel's, which Paige now attributed to Gabriel's personal touches to his earthly home. Jakab appeared to be more simplistic in style.

One thing that Jakab's apartment had that Gabriel's didn't was a terrace. As she walked across the room to get to the door outside, she heard Goliath yelp excitedly and race to greet his new visitor.

Once she was positive that the small dog couldn't fit through the bars on the balcony and fall to his canine death, Paige opened the door allowing him out with her.

Paige smiled, as she looked at all the flowers that Jakab had planted. She smelled something familiar, turning to identify it, she saw honeysuckle, like her Grandmother had grown when she was a girl.

Paige enjoyed the silence.

She had missed Jo when she was hunting on her own, and she almost never got sick of her, but Paige had a hard time finding time and space to be alone and think, or not think, as she saw fit.

She had no idea how long she was outside, but after a while she felt Jakab stand next to her, overlooking the city, lit up in the night sky.

"They look like stars." Paige said after they stood in companionable silence for several seconds. "Like dirty, artificial, and still beautiful stars."

"I am saying goodbye." Said Jakab, ignoring Paige's comment.

"You're leaving him?" Paige asked, unsurprised.

"Vould you stay?" asked Jakab. "After de lies, and de isolation, vould you stay vith him?" It wasn't a rhetorical question. Jakab was really asking her.

"I don't know." Said Paige honestly, shrugging. "He loves you so much. But it is a hard life. A little lonely for you, but then I think he's a lot more lonely than he'd ever admit outright too."

"He's not human." Said Jakab, "I vas alvays afraid of dat, but now I know. Ve von't live together forever. I vill grow old and ugly and needy vile he stays young and capable. How can he love me like dat?"

"There's no gurantee that you will find a human who loves you like that either, though." Said Paige, "People leave, and die, and lie and cheat. Always. It's hard to be with Gabriel, he's less than honest. He's high handed. He can be downright scary sometimes. But the one thing he has always done is love you. I can't promise that you will find a human who will love you the way Gabriel does."

"You are too young to be so cynical." Said Jakab, although he didn't correct her.

"I don't have the best track record. You know I'm right." Said Paige with a dry smile, " People spend their whole lives looking for someone to look at them the way that Gabriel looks at you. "

They stood in silence for a while longer.

"Vill you come vith me?" asked Jakab, "Ven Gabriel does it, vill you be dere?"

Paige was taken aback.

"Of course." She said, "Of course I'll be there for you."

"Not just for me," Jakab said, patting Paige on the back of the hand, "for Gabriel. You vill take care of him? He is lonely. He is sad, sometimes. He needs people, but he vill never ask for help."

Paige nodded, looking back out at the city in order to hide her tearing eyes. She didn't trust her voice to stay strong.

Jakab held her hand and they turned to go back into Gabriel's apartment. Jakab looked around his home for the last time. He squatted down and held Goliath against him, saying goodbye to the dog as well. Even the excitable terrier could sense the somber mood and looked between Jakab and Paige as if trying to determine what was wrong, his tail wagging hesitantly.

Gabriel was sitting in an armchair by the bookcase, staring off into space. He gave Paige a curt nod as she and Jakab entered the room.

He stood, gesturing for Jakab to sit in the seat. Jakab did so, awkwardly.

"Vat vill happen?" asked Jakab looking nervously up at Gabriel.

"That's really up to you." Said Gabriel stiffly, "I can erase your memories. I can create new ones. I can make you a CEO or a painter. What do you want?"

Jakab struggled for a moment.

"Don't erase de war." He said, "I need dose memories to remind me. I need to remember de death."

Gabriel nodded.

"Give me de memory of a lover," whispered Jakab, "A man vith beautiful eyes, and brown hair," Jakab reached up to touch Gabriel's hair, "Make him funny. And generous. Give me Istanbul."

Gabriel stepped out of Jakab's reach and pursed his lips.

"Too close to the real thing." He said flatly.

Jakab's eyes watered again and he licked his lips, looking down at the ground between them as Gabriel was avoiding his eyes. Jakab nodded.

"Give me vatever you tink is best." Said Jakab finally. "I trust you."

Gabriel nodded and stepped forward again, his hands outstretched.

"Vait." Said Jakab suddenly. "Vait, I take it back. I love you. I vant to be vith you"

"What?" asked Gabriel.

Jakab sprung up from his seat and wrapped his arms around Gabriel. He said something in a rush of languages that Paige didn't understand. She did catch one word, whispered into Gabriel's hair.

"Ok."

Jakab bent down and kissed Gabriel, his faced distorted in fear and resolution and love. His cheeks were shiny with tears. Even the impassive Gabriel gave a noise of happiness as his lover crushed him.

As the kiss began to get more heated, Paige realized that she needed to leave the room.

"You can stay." Said Gabriel in the sarcastic, teasing voice that Paige had thought she might never hear again. Jakab had moved his lips to Gabriel's neck, his hand pushing his clothes aside. "You know how much I like it when you watch."

Paige was too happy to chide his teasing or feel embarrassed. She started backing towards the door, excusing herself.

Jakab flipped Gabriel so that he was pressed against the angel's back.

"It could be like Buenos Aires again," said Jakab playfully, "Remember the prostitutes?"

Gabriel made a contented moan. Paige saw him smile and kiss Jakab over his shoulder as she shut the door on them.

* * *

"Wake up, Dr. Phil," said Gabriel poking Paige awake. He was in a good mood. Paige tried not to think to graphically as to why that might be and decided to enjoy Gabriel's oversight of her blowing his cover. "I got to get you back home."

Paige sat up and slid out from under Goliath who was curled at her feet.

"Dr. Phil?" asked Paige.

"I know that you talked to Jakab." He said. "Thanks." The word sounded foreign to him, like he had never said it with real sincerity before.

"How did you know that?" asked Paige, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"He told me to say goodbye for him. He's asleep, on my bed. We fucked each other's brains out-"

"Gabriel, too much information."

"Anyways, we were having passionate make-up fucking," Gabriel continued, ignoring Paige's wince, "And right before he fell unconscious, tired from all the anal sex, he told me to tell you that you'll be loved too one day. Some people spend their whole lives looking, but you won't. Of course, then I said that first you would have to lose twenty pounds, maybe get some highlights-"

"Don't fuck around about my weight, Gabriel."

"So, thank you." He concluded.

"I'm a romantic. You know this." Said Paige.

Gabriel gripped her arm. Getting ready to take Paige across the world to Alturas California.

"You wouldn't have really let him go out into society, would you?" Paige asked.

"Nope."

"What would you have really done?"

"Created an alternate reality. In real life, he would have just been in a coma in his apartment. But for all he knew, he would be travelling the world, falling in love, living a long, happy life."

"But he wouldn't. He would just grow old and die on a bed. His life would just be a dream."

"Oh, but what a dream it would be." Gabriel looked at Paige, "He's marked as mine. He always will be."

In a bleak way, it made sense to her.


	24. Chapter 24: An Ideal Husband

It was early evening when Paige and Gabriel landed in Alturas, California. Gabriel vanished soon after, probably back to Jakab, and Paige wasn't tired. The time difference meant that she was bright and fresh from a full night of Hungarian sleep just as the California night began to set in.

Paige stretched with her excess energy. She decided to check her phone, though she doubted that Jo would call or text her if she thought there was even the remotest possibility that Paige was getting laid.

As she turned on the light to go to the coffee table where she had left her phone, she suddenly heard a banging on the door.

Paige opened the door to a very worried looking David Zapata.

"Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?" he rasped.

Paige hadn't seen the former deputy in two years. While still attractive in a way that told the world he knew it, Zapata was very kind hearted. He looked older, though. Older than two years could really account for. His hair was longer, his stance a little more rugged.

He was looking at her with big eyes full of annoyance, suspicion, concern and relief. He seemed unsure of which emotion to greet her with.

He settled on relief, allowing himself into Paige's room without invitation.

He turned to her with a conflicted looking smile.

"What the hell, Paige?"

Paige crinkled her brow at him.

"I could ask you the same. Why are you here?"

"Are you serious?" asked Zapata with an exasperated expression.

"No. I'm kidding. Good joke, huh?" said Paige flatly. She sighed inwardly to herself. She was spending way too much time with Gabriel. Paige shook the tangent from her head, "Seriously, Zapata, what's up? You look freaked."

Zapata struggled for a moment.

"Seriously? So, I get this call from you, _out of the fucking blue_, that you need an alibi. That you need me to vouch for you, and that we're off having some romantic exorcism, by the way, putting a pin in _that _to come back to later. So, then, three days later, I hear about a school being _leveled _in the same town where you and I were supposed to be hooking up. _Then _I start fielding calls from your partner, Jo, lovely girl, a little on the persistent side. And I have no idea what to tell her, since you aren't returning _my _calls either. I thought you were _dead. _So, I came here and I've been looking around town for any trace of you. The only lead I got was a reservation in this motel around the same time you would have arrived, so I've been watching all day for someone, anyone, to come in or out."

Zapata let out a long breath after his rushed monologue.

"Leveled?" asked Paige, checking her phone. She didn't think to ask Gabriel what had happened after they had left. She'd had other concerns on her mind. A bloody and blistered archangel for one.

As she turned her phone on, she saw that she had almost sixty missed calls and her text message inbox was full. Zapata, Jo and even Rufus had called and sent her texts.

Zapata looked at her oddly.

"Yeah. Why do you sound surprised?"

"What did you tell Jo?" asked Paige, choosing not to answer Zapata's question.

"I told her that we were still together, but that cell phone reception was sketchy after the explosion. I told her that you were out, looking for evidence and stuff when she called, which was why you couldn't answer the phone."

"Good," Paige nodded, distractedly, "Good. Did she believe you?"

"The first few times, I think so." Said Zapata, looking at her with narrowed eyes.

Paige nodded.

She was so preoccupied as she tried to piece together an excuse that she didn't register Zapata stepping deliberately towards her until she was pinned beneath him.

Zapata held her down, chanting an exorcism spell in Hebrew while he started emptying a flask of salted holy water into her mouth. Paige sputtered as she tried to spit the water out without drowning.

After a few seconds, Zapata stopped and watched her, waiting for some kind of demonic reaction.

"Zapata, get off me." Said Paige, blinking some of the excess holy water that had splattered across her face out of her eye.

"You're not possessed then."

"No." said Paige, beginning to get annoyed. "Let me up."

"Not until you tell me what the fuck is going on."

Paige sighed.

"There is this demon, one of the thousands of demons who broke out of Hell. Lilith. Have you heard of her?"

Zapata nodded.

Paige turned her head and in an unladylike gesture, spit some of the excess salted holy water. In a trick that smacked of Rufus' efficient paranoia, Zapata had dissolved salt into his flask of holy water. It made it effective for a demon, but disgusting for an unwitting human.

"Anyways, Lilith," Paige continued, "Is trying to raise Lucifer, the King of Hell. Obviously, I'm anti-King of Hell. She has to break these seals, apparently, and one of them was in that school."

"So you were trying to stop her?"

"Yup."

"Did you?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think so." Said Paige. She never found out what Gabriel did with his book. After all the trouble he went through to save it, she figured that he was probably guarding it with his life. But, then, every time that she thought the archangel would do one thing he went in the opposite direction. She had stopped trying to predict anything about him.

"So, can I get up now?"

Zapata gave her a long look, as if considering. He got up and helped Paige to her feet, but his expression remained coldly suspicious.

"Alone?" he asked finally. "You went after this big bad demon, and survived, all alone?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Paige didn't respond.

"I'm doing you a favor here." Zapata reminded her. "You had help. Someone told you about the seal. Someone told you about Lilith. And someone helped you."

"Who are you working with?" he whispered, fear in his voice. "It isn't human, is it? You should have died, Paige. You should have died two years ago. And now, this?"

He shook his head.

"You're playing with something." He said, "What did you climb into bed with?"

Paige looked away from him. She had tried not to think about that one herself. Gabriel saved her. But he also wasn't always on humanity's side. He told her that the apocalypse was coming. He told her that he wouldn't do anything to stop it.

He let Lilith go.

Lilith, who had probably killed a dozen more between their altercation with her and now.

If the archangel turned Trickster hadn't saved her ass a thousand and some odd times, Gabriel would be something that she would hunt.

Gabriel killed. A lot. And for fun. Just because he had always shown her a level of favor didn't mean that he was so generous with others. He had adopted the identity of a Trickster and the habits of one as well. In fact, Paige wasn't sure that there was that great of a division between the two anymore, between the bloodthirsty and vengeful demi-god and the rebel archangel.

But then, she had killed too. She had intentionally emptied her gun into a man.

If other hunters knew, she would be a target for them as well.

Things had been so black and white before. Kill demons, burn ghosts, move on and repeat. But now, now the world was a shade of grey. She was a shade of grey. She honestly didn't know what was right or wrong anymore.

"I really can't tell you." Muttered Paige. "I really… I am so… I don't know anymore. Everything is messy and confusing and mixed up. I think I'm doing the right thing."

The end of her statement didn't come out with as much conviction as she had hoped. As she said it, she realized that the conviction wasn't there.

Zapata looked her over for a moment. Then sighed.

"I don't know what is right or wrong anymore either." He said, sitting on the bed. Paige sat next to him.

"You know, I met this vampire. And she swore up and down that she didn't drink humans." He chuckled to himself, but there was no humor in it "And she was telling the truth, for the most part. She hadn't had a drop of human blood for two hundred years. I looked it up." He shook his head, "When Rufus called to check up, I lied. I said that I had killed her. I really just gave her a head start. I still wonder if I did the right thing. I mean, it's only a matter of time, right? She is going to live forever. One day, she's going to be weak. One day, maybe tomorrow, maybe a thousand years from now, she's going to slip up. She's going to kill someone. But today, she's alive. And she's nice. A _nice _vampire."

"I let a Trickster go." Paige admitted. "He helped me out of a tight spot in Seattle. I've had about twenty opportunities to kill him. But… he kills bad people. And he saved me. So, what do I do with that?"

Zapata laughed darkly.

"Who the hell knows anymore?"

"Zapata?"

"Garcia?"

"You still won't tell anyone, right?"

Zapata thought for a moment.

"You didn't literally climb into bed with a Trickster, right?"

"No. Of course not." Said Paige, quickly. It seemed an odd question to ask. "Wait, did you climb in bed with something? With the vampire?"

Zapata fidgeted uncomfortably.

"What was it like?"

"That was not what I was expecting you to say." said Zapata gave Paige an odd look of surprise and amusement.

"Oh, sorry." Said Paige, "That was very wrong of you. How dare you be the Buffy to her Angel. The Bella to her Edward. But seriously, what was it like? Was she cold? Did she bite you?"

"Hey, hey, I was the Sookie to her Bill, thank you very much." Said Zapata, laughing. "What does it say about society that it's always vampire guys and human girls?"

"That girls are supposed to be fragile and young and innocent. While men are supposed to be older and stronger and lustful." Said Paige simply, as if it were obvious.

"Sexist bastards."

"I like to think so."

Zapata turned to face her, smiling.

"You know, it's been a really long time since I've talked to anyone about hunting. I've never told anyone about Lenore."

"I never told anyone about Loki."

"And you and he never…?"

"No. Never." Said Paige, shaking her head.

"What do you think of me for sleeping with her?" asked Zapata, sitting up. "Does that make me a worse hunter? Should I have killed her?"

"I don't know, maybe" said Paige, "But, really, what was it like?"

She sat forward, eagerly. She had never known someone who had been with a demon and lived to tell the tale.

Zapata smiled shyly.

"It was surprisingly… tender." He said, running his hand along the back of his neck, and smiling to himself as he was lost in the memory "I mean, I guess it's just the same as with people, but they're amazingly…romantic."

"Well, they used to be people."

"Yeah, exactly." He said. "I mean, did you know that they mate for life? Humans don't mate for life but these things do. And, they look the same as they did when they were alive. Where is the line, exactly? They don't have a pulse, but they have a personality. And morals. And love. Lots and lots of eternal love."

"Isn't it odd, " said Paige, thinking of Gabriel and Jakab, "how these creatures, which are supposed to be so different from us, seem to know how to love each other more than we do?"

Zapata smiled sadly and nodded. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"What we need," said Paige, into the silence "Is alcohol."

She rolled onto her stomach on the bed, reaching into a bag by the side of it. As she pushed her belongings aside, she felt Zapata's hand on the small of her back.

It was innocent enough.

But it sent shockwaves of heat through Paige's body. Her lower stomach contracted with anticipation under his warm touch.

Paige secured her grip on the bottle of Jim Beam in her bag. It was still mostly full. As bad as it sounded, Paige preferred to drink, really drink to get drunk, alone. When she had Jo around, she would sometimes nurse a beer while Jo worked her magic on other bar patrons, but drinking to get drunk was reserved for whenever Paige was in private. When the memories of her family and her John came to haunt her.

It was rare, but it usually cured a bad case of the melancholy. It seemed appropriate for tonight.

The skin under Zapata's hand threatened to catch fire.

Paige rolled back over, sitting up. As she did so, she dislodged Zapata's hand from her back. It sat, like a coiled snake, on the bed between them.

As Paige looked back up at Zapata, she saw an animal gleam in his warm brown eyes that hadn't been there before.

Paige chose to ignore it, and twisted off the cap of the bottle, helping herself to a generous swig.

Zapata's hand returned to her leg and Paige had to force herself to breathe regularly. Hormones, she reminded herself, it was just a hormonal reaction to her extreme lack of that kind of activity for a very long time.

But maybe it wasn't.

She did like Zapata. She liked his confidence. She liked his sense of humor. She liked that he was a genuinely nice guy.

And, God, was he attractive. If anything, the war against Hell made him look hotter. A little older, wiser, tougher. He was a whole lot of things that Paige wanted, but knew that she could never have, not really.

If John had taught her anything, it was that hunters die.

And they didn't die peacefully, in their sleep at a ripe old age, surrounded by grandchildren. They died violently and tragically and always too young. They went out for a hunt one day, and just never came back. And soon, all the hunters who knew them would be dead. No one would be left to mourn them anymore, no one would remember them. They'd just disappear.

Paige couldn't hear that another man she had loved died. She just couldn't.

Paige ignored every animal instinct in her body as she peeled his hand off of her thigh and placed the bottle into it.

"Lenore not enough for you?" Paige joked.

"Lenore was a while ago." Zapata admitted. "Sorry. About…"

"It's forgotten," said Paige dismissively with a smile.

* * *

Zapata had fallen asleep on the bed around one in the morning. Paige, however, was restless. She sat at the tiny table in the room, surfing the Internet for a new hunt. In the morning, at a reasonable hour, she would call Jo and meet up with her. She wondered if Zapata would be willing to drive her, giving their fictional rendezvous an air of legitimacy.

Both Paige and Zapata jumped as his cell phone rang in his pocket. Zapata rubbed his eyes and grumbled as he flipped open his phone and held it to his ear.

"Yeah." He answered in a sleepy, gravelly tone.

He then turned to Paige, holding his phone outstretched.

"Hey." Said Paige, putting it to her ear.

"Rufus, I found her." Paige heard Jo call into the background.

"Hey, whore. Where the hell were you? I've called you, like, a million times." Jo sounded immensely thankful to hear her. Paige was happy to hear Jo, too.

"Oh, yeah, I lost my phone. Are you at Rufus'?"

"Yup." Said Jo, "How are things with you? Sound pretty good. What is it, two am over there?"

"Something like that."

"And you're within phone reach of Zapata. You saucy minx."

"I'll meet up with you at Rufus' place. We're pretty much done here." Said Paige, ignoring Jo's comment.

"Poor Zapata."

Paige rolled her eyes.

"With the hunt. We're done with the hunt."

"So, does Zapata have any tattoos? Birthmarks?"

"Well, yeah, he has the same…" Paige stopped herself as she realized what Jo was asking. "Jo, you're impossible. He has the same tattoo that Rufus has. The anti-possession one. On his chest. Steamy."

Paige heard Jo laughing.

"What does he taste like?"

Paige blushed at Jo's question, a gesture not lost on Zapata who smiled crookedly at her from the bed. Paige heard Rufus make a sound of disgust in the background.

"I'll see you in a couple of days, Jo." Said Paige, hanging up.

She handed the phone back to Zapata.

"What did she say?" asked Zapata, referring to whatever it was that made Paige blush. Paige turned pink again.

"Nothing appropriate."

Zapata rolled over on the bed to go back to sleep.

"I like that Jo." He said drowsily.

* * *

Zapata agreed to take Paige from California to Rufus' hunting cabin in Montana. It was about at fifteen-hour drive. Paige climbed into the former deputy's 1993 Mazda.

"Did you ever get the radio on this fixed?" she asked him, remembering the mariachi station it had been stuck on when she last rode in his car in Texas.

"Nope." He said. "So it's kind of like an adventure. I never know what's going to pop up on my radio."

Paige laughed and turned on the radio as they drove northeast.

"Yeah," said Zapata, in response to the garbled and broken sounds from the radio. "Mostly it's static."

"So, what do you do on your drives?" asked Paige, turning off the static. "We're in these cars for almost as long as we're out of them. It's hard to spend that much time alone, with your thoughts."

"I guess." Said Zapata, "I usually think about the people I'm leaving. You know, I wonder if they'll be OK."

"Lady, sorts of people?"

"Sometimes," said Zapata with a sad, knowing smile.

"This lifestyle lends itself to one night stand relationships."

"You take closeness where you can get it," agreed Zapata. "And lets be honest, I'm a handsome son of a bitch."

"Modest, too."

"I'm the total package."

"Do you ever think about your family?" asked Paige.

Zapata was unique in the hunter world because he didn't have some sort of horrific past that ripped his loved ones apart. He became a hunter because he felt obligated to help people and protect them, not for revenge, like most.

"I try not to." He said. "See, my Dad used to drink a lot. Probably do other stuff too, I wasn't really sure, I was young. Anyways, one day he just left. He just up and left my Mom and my sister and I. And so, when I sort of fell off the grid, I know that my Mom thought that I was being just like him. I can't tell her, you know, that I'm hunting down Wendigos. She sort of has to come up with her own reasoning."

"You're not your father."

"No." said Zapata with a dry smile, "But I look like it to her. And that's pretty much the same thing."

* * *

"So, apparently, in the hunter world, we're married." Joked Zapata as Paige clicked the door to the second largest guest room in Rufus' house shut behind her, leaning against it.

Jo had insisted that they take the larger of the two guest rooms to share. It was one of the only ones with a double bed. Paige couldn't come up with a legitimate excuse to not sleep in the same room as Zapata without poking holes in their story.

"I'm so sorry." She said, but she smiled anyways.

Zapata looked Paige from head to toe.

"Meh. I could do worse. I do have a thing for redheads though. I don't suppose that you'd ever consider… No? Ok. I guess I'll have to settle for a busty brunette then. Marriage is about compromise, after all."

"You are having way too much fun with this."

Zapata smiled and shrugged.

"We could, you know, christen the bed. I should know about any birthmarks and such. If you want to be believable. "

"You're an ass." Laughed Paige.

"Ah, but to everyone here, I'm your ass."

"You really don't mind? Pretending to be my hunting husband?"

"Mind? No. I don't mind people thinking we're together. I'm pretty cool with us actually being together. Just putting that out there."

"David,"

"Uh-oh. You only call me 'David' when you're about to tell me bad news."

"You get it, right? You understand why we can't be… like that."

"Not really, no. But you seem to, so I guess that's pretty much the same."

* * *

"I'm in here!" Jo called from the kitchen as she heard Zapata and Paige coming down the stairs.

"So, we're having a little dinner party." Said Jo, "And then a surprise."

"I don't like surprises." Said Paige warily.

"Tough shit. Go help Rufus do whatever." Said Jo, dismissively, clearly trying to get rid of Paige so that she could talk to Zapata alone.

Paige rolled her eyes at Jo's lack of tact and glanced between her and Zapata. She nodded her head and backed out of the kitchen, casting an apologetic look at him.

"So," said Zapata as Paige left, "How can I help?"

"Cook these," said Jo, handing Zapata a pack of hamburgers, "And I'll cook Paige's Portobello mushroom."

Zapata crinkled his brow but obediently went to work on the hamburgers. Jo noted his confused expression.

"You know, Paige loves her Portobello mushrooms. Being a vegetarian and all."

"Oh, yeah, sure."

"Kind of weird that you didn't know that…" she said suspiciously. "I mean, you guys were together for a week and all. You had to eat at least once."

"Yeah. I mean, I just forgot. I never really noticed that she never ordered meat."

Jo's suspicious expression remained.

"So, is Paige ticklish?"

Zapata had to laugh at the serious tone that she asked the ridiculous and intimate question in.

"Ticklish?"

"Yeah. You should know, right? You guys were gone so long, you had to get hot and heavy. So, is she ticklish?"

"No. She's not. At least not when I was with her."

"What kind of shampoo does she use?"

"I don't know, but it smells minty."

"Birthmarks?"

"No, but she has three freckles right by her belly button. And one right on the inside of her left thigh. She likes it when I suck it."

"That's graphic."

"Well, c'mon. You were practically about to ask me which way she likes me to swirl my tongue when I go down on her. We were together. Satisfied?"

"Fine. You check out."

Zapata grinned broadly, pleased that he passed Jo's interrogation.

"So, what exactly are your intentions with my girl?"

"Your girl, is she?"

"She doesn't have anyone else, Zapata." Said Jo simply, "If you fuck her over, she's only got me. She hasn't been with anyone since John, and that was two years ago. And that," Jo made a distasteful expression, "was hardly a real relationship. She never talks about it, but I knew John, and I know Paige. I know that John had a real bad habit of treating people like shit until they were gone. And I know Paige would take whatever he had to give her without complaint. She figures that she loved him. Maybe she did. But he's dead and she needs someone to be there for her."

Zapata blanched when Jo mentioned John.

"You didn't know about all that?" she asked, guessing the truth.

Zapata shook his head and turned back to his task of cooking the meat, but his expression was glazed over.

"No." he rasped, "No, I didn't know about all that."

"So," said Jo, "If this isn't anything serious for you, you let her down easy and you walk away. If you lead that poor girl on, I will make it my personal mission to hunt you down and hurt you."

"Yes ma'am" said Zapata as he gave a solemn nod to the small Jo who was stood about a head and a half below him.

Rufus and Paige interrupted the moment as they walked into the kitchen, Paige with a heavy book under her arm.

"Rufus spoiled your surprise." Said Paige flatly as she came into the kitchen.

"Rufus," whined Jo, looking past Paige as Rufus sat at the kitchen table.

"Girl doesn't like surprises." He said with a shrug,

"So," asked Jo, turning back to Paige, "What do you think?"

"I think, what the hell?" said Paige with a smile, "I already got this tattoo," she raised her left wrist, showing off her Star of David. "So one more can't hurt."

"It doesn't hurt much," assured Jo.

"So, where did you get your anti possession tattoo?" asked Paige, "Not over your chest."

"And never wear tank tops again? Or strapless dresses?" asked Jo, "No, I didn't get it there. Guess where I got mine while you and Zapata were in California. Guess!"

"Well, you can't get it someplace where it could be broken or scratched," mused Paige, smiling as she played along with Jo's game, "so, lower back?"

Jo shook her head 'no.'

"Ankle?" she asked

Jo shook her head again.

"Ok, I give up."

Jo pouted at Paige's quick surrender, but leaned forward and whispered it into her ear, smiling as she saw Paige's face flush.

"Where is it?" asked Zapata.

"Paige can show you when she gets hers tonight," laughed Jo, suggestively.

"Jo," snapped Rufus, "Rein it in a little, huh? Leave the kids alone."

* * *

"So, how was it?" asked Zapata as Paige returned to the room that they were sharing. He was sitting on the bed, with one of Rufus' hunting files laid out in front of him.

"Good. It's still a little sore." Paige answered. She stayed standing as she thought of how to ask Zapata the next question, "David, how did you know about my freckles?"

Rufus' friend, the tattoo artist who'd had a poltergeist in his shop, owed Rufus quite a few favors and agreed to do the tattoos in Rufus' house.

Jo had kicked Rufus and Zapata out of the room while the artist worked. As Paige took off her pants and exposed her sensitive skin on the inside of her upper left thigh, Jo had practically pushed the artist away in order to see Paige's leg.

When Paige laughed nervously, Jo shrugged nonchalantly and said that she was checking something. When Jo spotted Paige's freckle on her thigh, she nodded and turned away.

That was when Paige found out about Jo's interrogation. She wasn't surprised at Jo's complete lack of boundaries as much as she was by the accuracy of Zapata's answers.

Zapata smiled guiltily and turned away from her.

"Remember, this morning, when you thought I was asleep so you changed in the main room?" he asked, "Well, I wasn't. And I peeked. Sorry."

"David!"

"Well, it was right there. In front of me! What was I supposed to do? Not peek?"

"Yes!"

"Well," he said, laughing, "If I hadn't peeked then I wouldn't be able to answer Jo's invasive questions and then wouldn't you feel silly?"

"David," Paige said, widening her eyes, and lowering her voice "These walls aren't sound proof."

"Tenemos que hablar nuestra lengua" he said.

_We will have to speak our own language._

Paige smiled. She liked having something that she and Zapata could share, away from Jo and Rufus. Something that was theirs. She shook the thought from her head. She was already feeling far too comfortable around the attractive hunter. She didn't need to add that to the mix as well.

"Ahora!" said Zapata, with conviction. "muestrame tu tatuaje."

_Now, Show me your tattoo._

"No." said Paige, shaking her head and smiling.

"Por que no?" asked Zapata, "Nada que no yo he visto."

_Why Not? Nothing that I haven't seen._

"You weren't supposed to see that!" snapped Paige, refusing to respond in Spanish.

"Oh, c'mon." pleaded Zapata, quietly. "I'll show you mine."

"Yours is on your chest. Mine is…" Paige stopped herself from saying it out loud. "Someplace else."

"We both know that Jo is going to ask me what I thought of it."

Paige exhaled in defeat. He was right. Jo would pounce on Zapata the second they came downstairs in the morning.

"Fine. It's on my thigh. Near a freckle that you shouldn't know about either."

Zapata smiled and his eyes clouded over with a lustful haze as he imagined it.

"Stop that." Hissed Paige, "stop picturing it."

"Nope. It is my right as a man and as your hunting husband to picture it."

Zapata rose off of the bed and stalked slowly towards Paige. She could hear her pulse drumming in her ears.

"I am picturing it," whispered Zapata, "I'm picturing it all pink and shiny. I'm picturing it tender, the skin around it so pale and soft."

He was standing so close to her that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. She could feel his breath on her skin.

He leaned in to her slowly, at first. Inching in delicately, giving her every opportunity to pull away, push him away, stop the him from taking the thing that he had made no secret about wanting.

It was Paige, though, who slid her hands up his chest and through his hair, pulling him closer, pulling him into her to make the first, fragile contact between them. Zapata stepped forward so that he had her pressed against the door.

Zapata's lips began to move against Paige's mouth while his hands found sanctuary running up and down her sides. When his tongue reached her lips, Paige let out a whimper, a plea.

Encouraged, Zapata's hands began to move more firmly.

Paige knew that Zapata would have been content to kiss and leave it at that, but Paige wanted more. She wanted skin, and teeth and intimacy and she didn't want to think it all the way through.

Paige's hands left Zapata's face and hair and slid over his chest and back, pulling him to her. Their breath became ragged, out of sync and erratic they clawed at each other, unable to ever be close enough.

Paige's fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt. As her hands reached his flesh, Zapata gave out a needy breath against her lips. Paige stroked her hands against him under his shirt, the warm flesh rippling over the hints of muscles. Not perfect and uniform, like muscles gained at a gym, but real strength earned through use and fights and war.

Her hands slid up, grazing Zapata's nipples, winning another raspy sound against her neck. As she moved her hand up further, she skimmed a long line of raised flesh down the center of his chest.

Paige pulled back from their kiss and lifted Zapata's shirt to see it better.

It was six inches long, running from the top of Zapata's chest to his mid abdomen and the height of the raised scar tissue told Paige that the cut had been deep.

"That was a Kitsune I ran across in Nebraska about six months back. She got away. I got this." Said Zapata, answering the question that she didn't need to ask.

Paige absent-mindedly ran her finger along the scar, imagining it fresh and bloody. Imagining the pain that Zapata had been in. Remembering how she felt as she laid out on the ground, sure that she was breathing her last breath.

Paige pushed Zapata away.

"What? Because of a scar?" he asked incredulously, surprised at her sudden change in disposition.

"Don't be stupid." retorted Paige. "You know what that scar means."

"That Kitsunes are violent bitches with claws?"

"Don't be funny right now," she said. Zapata was getting irritated. He roughly jerked his shirt back over his chest, hiding the offensive scar. "You got hurt. You bled." Paige willed her voice to remain strong as she spoke. "You could die tomorrow, David."

"So could you." grumbled Zapata.

"I'm ok with dying," said Paige matter of factly, "But I can't live through another man disappearing on me. I barely made it the first time."

"You're full of shit." Snapped Zapata, surprising Paige. She had rarely seen the easy-going former deputy get upset. "John died. I'm sorry. That's really shitty. But you guys had something. You can't live your life in fear of losing the things you love. You have to take a fucking risk every once and a while. You could lose everything, but if you don't try, then you never get anything worth keeping anyways."

"You shut up." Growled Paige, her own temper rising. "You've never lost anyone, David. I've lost _everything_. I'm glad that you're willing to wear your heart on your sleeve, but if mine breaks anymore, there won't be anything left to try and salvage. Death is nothing. But life, without those you love, is worse than Hell."

Zapata turned away from her angrily.

"Where are you going?" he said as she started grabbing her bags.

"Jo's room." Replied Paige, not looking up at him. "Thanks for all your help in California, but you can consider our little hunter marriage annulled."

She walked out the door before Zapata could say anything.

* * *

Paige swallowed a laugh at the sight of her friend in the tiny twin bed in Rufus' guestroom. Jo loved to sleep in her underwear and bra, shunning the idea of pajamas altogether.

But it was a chilly night in Whitefish, Montana. Jo was piled under a massive mountain of blankets and was still curled into a practically naked ball beneath them, shivering but stubbornly refusing to put on more clothes.

Somehow, Jo, even when she was in a grumpy, restless mood always made Paige feel better. And the sight of her friend, her partner, sleeping in a manner that was so…_Jo…_made Paige want to cry with relief.

Paige curled back the blankets of the bed, climbing in, fully clothed.

Jo scooted closer to her, and the Paige rested her arm over Jo's waist.

"I know you're awake." Whispered Paige.

Jo turned so that she was facing Paige. The small bed meant that the girls were inches apart.

"How much of that did you hear?"

"Nothing. I woke up when you came into the room."

"Jo."

"Ok, I heard the part about dying and you being full of shit and then something about sleeves. "

Paige had to smile when Jo lied about something like that. Jo wasn't one to mince words. The only reason that she would lie was if she agreed with Zapata.

"Do you think I'm making a mistake?" she asked.

"I think that you know what is best for you." Said Jo.

"You sort of agree with Zapata, though."

"I love you, Paige." Said Jo simply, "But seriously, we could all die tomorrow. I want to go out as well fucked and well loved as I can manage."

Jo ran her hand along Paige's face, a tragic smile playing at her lips.

"But we're different people, Paige. I hardly know what's best for me. I have no idea what's best for you."

"I'm so glad I have you, " said Paige, holding out her pinky to her friend. "I think that you're what's best for me."

"Then you are seriously fucked," Jo joked quietly, taking Paige's pinky in her own, nonetheless, "I love you, Garcia."


	25. Chapter 25: Catcher and the Lie

**It's alright, children, I'm back. I promise to never ever leave you again until I get enough money to get to Argentina. Or Ecuador. Or Chile. Best experience of my life. I highly recommend you all do the same. **

**I was so excited to write this chapter! I really wanted to finish it before I left, but I couldn't leave you hanging like this for seven weeks! **

**As always, read, review, make merry and such. I love all of you who added this story to your alerts! **

Paige woke alone in the bed the next morning. She had overslept as a result of a bizarre case of angel lag and the emotional exhaustion of her fight with Zapata the night before.

As she went downstairs, she saw Rufus in the kitchen, watching something out the window. Paige entered the kitchen and helped herself to a cup of coffee, waiting to see if Rufus would say anything about the fight that he undoubtedly overheard between her and Zapata the night before.

Out of the three young hunters, Paige was the most distant to Rufus. He had watched Jo grow up, being good friends with Ellen. Rufus had trained Zapata, and he showed a high level of affection for him, or at least as high of a level of affection that Rufus could be expected to show anybody.

Rufus nodded to acknowledge Paige's presence but remained silent. Paige wasn't sure if he was being cold or if it was just his personality, but she accepted it at face value. She was a little mad at herself for upsetting Zapata as well.

He was a good, likeable guy whose only crime was wanting to be close to her. It was hard for her to keep being angry with him.

Paige followed his gaze out the window and saw Zapata packing his car to head out to his next hunt. Paige put down her coffee on the counter and went out to him.

She wasn't sure what to say to him. Nothing had changed. But she desperately wanted him to leave on good terms. She didn't have many friends, she didn't want to burn this bridge. She was pretty sure that Zapata had heard her come out and was deliberately ignoring her, he had his pride after all.

"Where's the hunt?" she asked him after watching him in silence for a couple of seconds.

"Alabama." He said. The cold tone reminded her of the first time she met him. He didn't stop packing.

"David," said Paige, finally "What do I have to say to get you to look at me?"

Zapata paused when she called him by his first name, his hands on the top of the car's trunk.

"You can say that you forgive me." He said, "I'm so sorry, Paige, I just blew up last night. I could blame blue balls, but we both know it was more than that." He offered a smile at his weak joke, Paige was happy to return it.

"I just…" he paused, "You told me, off the bat, that this was a hard life. And... I'm lonely, Paige. I'm twenty eight years old. I always figured I'd be married with a kid and a mortgage and stuff by now. I don't regret my decision… but you remind me of all those things I want. You make me want them with... you. Does that freak you out?"

"No Zapata, it makes perfect sense." Paige said sadly, "I feel the same."

"You've got Jo. I've got… Rufus, I guess. Most of the time, I can pretend it's OK. It's ok that I'll never have a house. Or kids. When I'm with you, though, it's harder."

"Maybe in another life, without demons and hunts, we can have those things."

"Do you think…" Zapata started, "Do you think that maybe, when we're too old and grey to hunt anymore, we can just buy a house? We can get a dog or something, and just be, you and me?"

"David, we won't grow old at all."

"Paige," he pleaded. "Just… don't"

Zapata didn't need the truth. Zapata needed something to hold onto. He needed a dream, a reason to go on. He needed something to hold onto in the darkest moments. Paige couldn't deprive him of that.

"You'll have to talk it out with Jo. I already promised that she and I would grow old and crazy together."

"Well, say that she meets someone that is willing to deal with her craziness. And we got adjacent homes."

"I want to live near the ocean."

"We'll buy a place by the ocean. We can have barbeques every Sunday."

"Vegetarian barbeques."

"Yeah. With tofu and veggie burgers and I don't really know what."

"I guess that could work."

Zapata smiled. It was a nice dream, but it was hollow and they both knew it. Hunters didn't grow old. Hunters didn't have barbeques with their friends on Sundays.

It was only a matter of time.

Zapata leaned forward and placed his lips against Paige's, holding onto his dream a little longer.

He ran his thumb along her jaw line, and looked at her long and hard, as if trying to remember her face, just as it was.

Paige hadn't allowed herself to think like that in a long time. She never allowed herself to think about a future with anyone at all. But as Zapata said the words, Paige's heart broke with longing.

She wanted Zapata. She wanted to walk a dog on the beach with him. She wanted Sunday barbeques with Jo. She wanted to know that the people she loved were safe and close by. She wanted to fall asleep in the same bed every night with the same person.

She forced herself to stop thinking like that, slamming the Pandora's box closed. It would never be her life.

But her eyes welled with tears as Zapata drove away. The dream filled him with purpose.

It filled her with dispair.

* * *

Paige didn't want to go back into the house and try to decipher Rufus' stony silence. She walked into the woods, furiously wiping the army of tears away from her cheeks, their trails leaving stripes of wet flesh along her face that stung in the cold Montana air.

She was still crying when she heard Jo jogging through the trees towards her.

"What happened?" asked Jo, seeing her friend's red and swollen eyes.

Paige shook her head as more tears came.

"What did Zapata say to you?"

"That he wanted to grow old with me and live in a house by the beach."

"That bastard."

Paige smiled weakly, but the tears came faster and harder than before.

"Oh, honey," said Jo, pulling Paige into a hug. She kissed Paige's hair.

"I wish it was easier, Jo. I wish that I could grow old with someone. I wish John was alive. I wish my parents were around. I want to talk to my Dad, Jo. He always knew everything and it hurts so much that he's gone. It hurts everyday."

Paige was sobbing now, and Jo's own eyes filled with tears, too.

"Shhhh," Jo hushed, rubbing Paige's back like she was soothing a child. "Shhhhh. We can't think like that. We'll drown in it if we do."

"I'm drowning, then."

"Ok. Ok." Jo said with determination. "Ok, we're going to just take this one step at a time. Step one is going back to Rufus' and finding a hunt. That's all we're doing right now. Can you manage that?"

Paige nodded.

"Ok."

* * *

The hunt in question was in Edgecombe, North Carolina. Two untimely deaths on the outskirts of some woods. Witnesses couldn't explain the deaths but there had been reports of a woman being seen both times.

Paige had been silent the entire car ride. Jo was driving, if that was any indication of how screwed up Paige was. She had been on the edge since D.C. and now Jo was sure that she was on the brink of something big and bad.

Jo couldn't stop herself from giving Paige nervous glances out of the corner of her eye.

The thing that troubled Jo was that she knew Paige was only telling her bits and pieces of what was really bothering her. Something was up. Paige kept on vanishing for hours, or days even, and coming back… different.

She disappeared that night in D.C. and Jo had still never gotten a satisfactory answer as to how she managed to escape and wind up on Rufus' porch.

Then, the night before she disappeared with Zapata, Jo had watched her sneak out of the room at an ungodly hour and return five hours later.

Then there was her hunt with Zapata. She had been unreachable for two days and Jo even had doubts that Zapata knew where she really was the whole time. She had been calling him every few hours, his excuses growing thinner and thinner as time went on. They were both singing a different tune when they got to Rufus' again.

Jo wasn't stupid. Paige was up to something. And it wasn't screwing Zapata, although, that would probably be good for her.

Paige had secrets, but as far as Jo could tell, they weren't hurting anyone.

Besides Spencer Platt, that is.

But now Paige seemed to be spread pretty thin. And Jo was getting a little worried. If Paige was an alcoholic or a drug addict, at least Jo would know what to expect. But, for all their time alone together, the last time Jo had seen Paige loose control was the last night of a man's life.

* * *

"You're really with the CDC?" asked the man for the third time, eyeing Paige with suspicion.

At 24, Paige still looked very, very young to be a representative of the Center for Disease Control. However, after the past few years of imitating everyone from drunken sorority girls to FBI agents over the phone, Paige was getting better at portraying herself as believably older than she was. Plus, the worldly and grim persona that was indicative of any real hunter practically added decades to her short life, making her ageless.

But it wasn't her age that made Dr. Roberts, the man who worked in the coroner's office, hesitate. Paige got an irked feeling that it was just good old fashioned sexism at work.

"Yes, Dr. Roberts." said Paige handed her fake badge over to him for further verification, yet again.

"Neither of the victims have died of any disease that I can see."

"Well, with all due respect," Paige forced said due respect into her voice, "My supervisor would feel better if I could inspect the bodies and paperwork myself. We've had some problems with Lyme disease as well as rabies in the surrounding counties. Two unusual deaths in one wooded area, we want to make sure everything is up to date. Standard routine, I assure you."

"And you're sure you want to see these bodies?" he said it in a tone that asked if she, in all her feminine delicacy, could look upon a dead body without fainting. Paige felt like punching the older Dr. Roberts in the balls.

"I would like to try and wrap this up so I can be home by five." Paige said with a plastered, toothy grin.

Dr. Roberts gave an understanding smile and led her to the back room.

"Jesus, took him long enough. What a dick." Jo's voice said into Paige's discreet earpiece. Paige forced herself to not smile at her friend's commentary.

Jo was sitting in the Cadillac, four blocks over, probably sipping on a frozen coffee and watching the feed though Paige's laptop. Jo was bored and annoyed that she still couldn't pass as old as Paige did. She took it out by making dry, sarcastic remarks in Paige's ear, forcing the hunter to try and keep a straight face.

Dr. Roberts gave Paige a last look, as if asking if she really wanted to see the bodies. Paige snapped her laytex gloves over her hand with an air of finality. Dr. Roberts uncovered the sheet. Paige looked at him. He took the cue and left her alone with the pale and preserved corpses.

Paige slowly looked down the first victim's body, giving Jo plenty of time to inspect the body through the laptop feed.

"Any sign of how he died?"

Paige cleared her throat. The two had created a code so that Jo could ask questions and Paige could answer them without looking like a crazy person talking to herself. A cleared throat meant, "No."

Paige pulled out her notebook and scribbled a message that Jo could read through the feed.

_Do you think this is a job for us?_

"Yeah. That spirit or appiration or whatever it is was was definitely seen by three witnesses. It's real. And these two vics… same place? Too much coincidence."

Paige sighed. It was code for "Yes."

"Wrap it up. Have them fax me us the reports. We'll talk it out when you get back."

Paige sighed again.

As she went to cover the first victim's body again her eye caught on a mark by his thumb.

"Hello." Said Jo, noticing it at the same time that Paige did. "There we are. Can you get a little closer?"

Paige leaned in, pretending to inspect his abdomen.

"That, if I'm not much mistaken, is a big ass drag mark."

Paige sighed again. She covered up the first victim, then turned and looked at the second. Same mark, same place.

"Bingo." Said Jo.

* * *

Paige sat, inspecting the medical reports, a very large book of medicine sat in front of her. Jo was in the woods where the deaths had happened, looking for any sort of evidence.

Paige was looking at the chemical make up of the victim's blood when they died. Both had unusually high levels of diamorphine in their blood.

They had OD'd.

But, the problem was that neither victim had any history of drug abuse. And the variant of the drug was so unusual that it probably didn't register when the coroner initially examined their blood.

It could be the chemical make up of a demon that stung them.

At that moment, Jo walked back into the room. Paige looked up at her expectantly.

"Sulfur? Demonic energy? Anything?"

Jo raised her eyebrows and turned her shoulder bag upside down above Paige's books. A hundred empty syringes rained down on her.

"Needles?" asked Paige.

"The same kind that could leave a mark like that." Said Jo with a nod.

"Not demons?"

"That woman, though." Said Jo. "If it wasn't a demon, who was that woman that everyone saw?"

"Could still be a spirit. Wouldn't be the first time that a poltergeist was able to produce physical things. But, no suspicious or violent deaths in or around the woods in… gosh… forty years. And even then, it was an old man who had a heart attack."

"Well, could be someone dumped an artifact that a spirit was linked to."

Paige knitted her brows.

"Yeah, I heard about this one time that this hunter friend of my Mom's, Caleb, said he found a spirit without any links to the river that it was haunting. Turns out that someone had pieced together that it was the fucking necklace they had inherited that was the source of the crazy shit going down. But they didn't know how to really destroy it. They tossed it into a nearby river. The spirit was pissed that it was moved from the house, so it started haunting passing boats and campers. Caleb sunk three months into that hunt."

"Oh, shit." Said Paige. The thought had never occurred to her, "I really don't want to search those woods from top to bottom for something so tiny as a necklace. It could be buried. Ugh."

Jo gave a sympathetic shrug.

"These deaths happened at five am. Lets get a few hours of shut eye and go out there at four. We'll see if we can catch a glance of the spirit. Maybe that will give us a better idea as to what the hell is going on." Paige suggested, happy to be able to close the medical book.

* * *

Paige waited until Jo's breathing became slow and regular before she slipped out of bed, quietly shrugging on her jacket and tracing the outline of Gabriel's coin in her pocket. She cast one last glance at Jo to be sure she was still asleep before she slid out of bed.

* * *

Joanna Beth Harvelle was not known for her ability to see the best in people. That was Paige's job. Whether or not she actually meant it, Paige always had something nice to say about everybody.

So it made Jo sick to be stealthily following her best friend, hunting partner and lifeline out into the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night.

But Jo had given Paige a million opportunities to tell her where she was going and what she was doing on those hours and days she would vanish and then conveniently reappear.

Paige stopped in the middle of an empty parking lot. Jo crouched down behind a truck. She watched Paige look around. Positive that she was alone, Paige pulled something small from her pocket. A coin?

Jo saw the copper glint as it flipped in midair. Paige then stood with the coin clenched in her fist. She closed her eyes and Jo saw her lips move soundlessly. She was sending out a message to someone. Or, most likely, something.

After a few moments, nothing had happened. Paige flipped the coin again, closing her eyes with a bit more aggitation than before.

"Oh, c'mon" Paige said, impatiently, into the darkness.

"This had better be important. You have ninety seconds, I'm on a commercial break. The Bachelorette is on and Jakab made cheesecake."

Jo had guessed that Paige was summoning something less than human, but she still had to swallow a gasp as the dark haired man materialized in front of Paige.

It was true.

Paige was working _with_ something. Something, clearly not human, had just magically appeared in front of her and she wasn't stabbing anything into its heart.

Jo felt sick. Never, in a million years, would she think that Paige was capable of something like that. And, yet, here she was.

"They have The Bachelorette in Hungary?" asked Paige, unsurprised by the man's tone and sudden appearance.

"_I _do."

"I need help with this hunt."

The man rolled his eyes.

"I'm not your personal demon encyclopedia."

"Could you just shut up and listen for five minutes?"

The man consulted his watch.

"Sixty seconds."

"Two deaths. Same area of woods. Both have drag marks and remnants of diamorphine in their blood. No history of drug abuse. But, here's the winner, both deaths have witnesses who claim they saw the same woman in the area. No one in town matches her description, no one has ever seen her before. No violent deaths or disappearances in the woods as of late. Jo says that it could be a haunted object that someone tried to dump in the woods."

"It's possible. It does happen, but usually objects need interaction to trigger the haunting. Wearing a necklace, purchasing a painting, etcetera etcetera. Sounds like a ghost, though. What do you want me to do?"

"Help?"

The man took a deep breath and then consulted his watch again. Throwing Paige a very put upon expression, he lifted his head and unfocused his eyes. Jo felt a tingle across her skin. Her stomach dropped as she realized that the man had cast out his otherworldly senses to act as a scanner, trying to pick up everything in the area that could possibly account for the deaths. She hoped beyond hope that she wouldn't show up on it.

His eyes landed on her.

Shit, fuck, shit and double shit fuck.

Paige followed the man's gaze.

He broke out into a grin but his stone cold eyes terrified Jo to her core.

"No, don't. Gabriel, don't! I didn't know! Don't hurt her!"

Paige's yells didn't faze the man as he suddenly appeared behind Jo, gripping her elbow so tightly that Jo felt her bone fracture.

A panicked yelp of immesurable pain escaped her lips. The man glared at her, the same mean smile twisted at his lips.


	26. Chapter 26: Under the Volcano

**Hi kids,**

**So, since I don't start working again until Tuesday, I've had A LOT of time on my hands. Lucky you! **

**Also, I've been watching a lot of General Hospital. Did you know that there is an ENTIRE channel called "soapnet"?I feel like I should warn, i****t has been my constant companion. Again, lucky you. **

* * *

"Gabriel!" Paige pleaded again, trying to pull his hand from Jo's now injured arm.

Jo refused to match Paige's tone of desperation. If she was going to be crushed to death in the grips of a demon, she wasn't going to be pleading and blubbering like an idiot.

She was going to look the bastard in his eyes. Unrelenting honey brown eyes returned her glare. Jo looked to Paige.

"This a friend of yours?" she asked her.

"Let her go." Paige tried again, avoiding Jo's eyes.

"I can't believe this" Jo ground out, ignoring the sharp pain shooting up and down her arm, ignoring the inhuman, unfeeling eyes glowering at her, ignoring everything except her best friend. She forced herself to not well up, lest it be mistaken for fear.

Jo was hurt, but not from her brand new bone fracture. "I trusted you, Paige. Or Sophie. That's your real name, isn't it? I can't believe I thought I knew you."

Paige moved quickly and deliberately. She took a step towards the demon holding Jo and stuck her hand beneath his coat, pulling a long knife in a swift motion.

She held his weapon, half-heartedly, to the demon's chest.

"Let her go." She said again, quietly.

The demon released Jo's arm unexpectedly. The quick movement of her arm dropping sent new waves of pain along her limb.

Paige flipped the blade in her hand, returning it to the demon, handle first. He took it and gave a last glance between Jo and Paige.

"I gotta bounce anyways. My show is starting and my lover is getting cold." The demon said, nonchalantly.

"I'm going to tell her the truth." Paige told him. She said it softly.

The demon didn't respond, but looked back over his shoulder at them. In the next instant, he was gone.

* * *

"You stay the fuck away from me." Jo snapped at Paige took a step toward her, concerned at the way that Jo was clutching her fractured arm. "I've put up with so much of your shit."

"Can I explain?"

"No."

"Jo…" Paige started, but faltered. Where would she even start?

"I don't even know you anymore." Muttered Jo.

"I'm still me." Offered Paige. "I'm still Paige Meredith Garcia. Aged 24. My favorite movie is Dirty Dancing. I like Jelly Beans, except the purple ones. I don't eat meat. And you're Joanna Beth Harvelle. You still carry your dad's hunting knife. You ran away from your mother, your only family, a little more than a year ago and everyday you think about calling her. You watch reality TV and you drink so much Red Bull that you're going to give yourself cancer. We sleep in the same bed. You told me that you loved me. I'm still _me_."

Jo's eyes were watering, but whether from the fractured arm or Paige's words was still unclear.

"I trusted you."

"You can still trust me!"

"What the hell are you saying? Of course I can't trust you. I thought you had my back."

"_I do have your back!" _

"What about those nights you would just disappear? For hours and hours. You didn't have my back then." Jo said, Paige bit her lower lip guiltily, "Yeah. You didn't think that I knew about those. That you've been doing this for _months_ at least."

"Jo…"

"So, tell me, please, what is he?"

"He's an angel."

Jo snorted.

"There is no such thing." She said, looking at Paige with what could only be described as pity.

"But there are! And he is one."

"Gabriel, was his name?" asked Jo. Paige nodded, "So, not only is he a fucking _angel_. He's _the _angel. The big famous one, Old Testament style. Paige, this isn't just dense, this is sad. Say he is _the _angel. Why does he give two fucks about you?"

Paige swallowed and reminded herself that Jo was like a wounded dog, lashing out at others when she was the one that was hurt.

"He says there's this prophecy. I have something to do with it."

"And, what, he's like your guardian angel?"

"That's not really the right way to phrase it…" started Paige.

"He is doing a really shit job, if he is." Jo said, ignoring her. "How many people in your life have died? Everyone you ever loved? More or less? He's not protecting you from _anything_. I protected you. _I _loved you. And you're off with him? He could kill you, Paige. He could kill _me_."

"He saved you, Jo."

Jo rolled her eyes.

"In Seattle…"

"He's been with you since _Seattle?_"

Paige gave a downcast nod.

"That's why you left me? _Him?_ You were off doing God knows what with him and you left me all alone? Do you have any _clue _how horrible those months without you were? Sitting at home, with my mother, thinking in my heart of hearts that I did something so horrible that even you couldn't forgive me? And it was _you _who went behind my back. It was _you _who has been gallivanting around with a demon—"

"He isn't a demon, he's a-"

"Demons lie, Paige!" snapped Jo, "There are no such things as angels. There are just demons and then there are very clever demons. You're so stupid. But you've made me stupid too. You made me stupid because I fucking _trusted _you."

"Jo, he _saved_ you." Paige started. Jo gave another disbelieving guffaw. "You weren't you, Jo. You got poisoned, or ingested or something and you became like a zombie. There was this God. And he…she… it was using you. It was torturing you. It was going to rape you and I asked him to help. He did, Jo. He saved you, and ever since then, I can't help but trust him."

"My black out…"

"You didn't hurt anyone," Paige completed the sentence in her head, "but it was going to use you. I told him to stop and he risked his life to do it."

"He couldn't have…"

"You think I could have? By myself? It was a _God,_ Jo, and you were under it's spell. What was I supposed to do?"

"Not this."

Jo started to take off her jacket. Her affronted huff was slowed a bit as she struggled to take off the sleeve with her compromised arm. Once the jacket was off, she started trying to take off her sweater, proving to be more difficult since the sweater was a pullover rather than a zip up.

"Jo, what are you doing?"

"This- sweater-" Jo was panting through her effort against the offensive garment, "Is-yours-"

"Jo, keep the sweater. It was a gift."

"I don't want your gifts!" she said finally, tossing the sweater in question at Paige.

"Oh. Oh. I see how it is." Said Paige. She took off her coat as well, tossing the black faux leather bomber jacket in Jo's general direction.

"And this!" called Jo, jerking the silver "J" pendant necklace that Paige had found at a flea market off her neck so that the back of the chain broke.

Jo threw it into the dark and it landed on the asphalt. Both Paige and Jo watched it fall, but both knew that they'd have no hope of finding it in the dark. Paige thought she saw a shadow of regret flash across her features.

Now that they were both spent, they stood in silence. Paige was cold without her coat, but refused to cross her arms across her chest or shiver, not wanting to give Jo the satisfaction.

"I paid for the room." Jo said, into the darkness. Any hope that Paige had of apologizing and making up vanished. "I'll give you an hour to get your stuff."

"I guess this is why hunters don't travel in pairs." Paige said coldly.

Jo ignored her.

Just like that, their alliance, partnership and friendship disappeared. They were just two strangers, standing out in the cold.

* * *

Once Jo heard the fading rumble of the less than subtle Cadillac as it left the parking lot, she finally released the sob she had been choking back.

She was so dumb.

What the hell was she thinking, climbing onto the road with a girl she barely knew. Entrusting her life to someone who already had displayed some serious red flags in the judgment department.

Maybe her Mom was right; she wasn't ready.

And she missed Paige. Like someone had reached into her and taken every good memory, every ounce of confidence, and ripped it out all the while laughing at her for thinking that she ever really deserved them.

Her life on the road was fucked up; but she thought she was doing a pretty damn good job living it.

And now… she was alone. Like she always knew she would be. Like she always figured that she deserved to be.

Jo plopped onto her bed and pressed her face into the pillow. It smelt like Paige, which didn't help. They had shared a _bed_. Jo knew Paige's smell but she didn't know that she had been lying to her since, pretty much, day one of their hunting together.

How did Paige smell different from her? They used the same shampoo and conditioner (Paige liked the minty kind found at fancy boutiques) they washed their laundry together (using whatever detergent was convenient) they ate at the same restaurants, they visited the same bars.

Why did Paige smell like vanilla and jasmine and something clean and cool, like cucumbers? They would smell the same, logically, so why could Jo recognize her scent hours, if not days after she had worn something or laid her head on a pillow.

Jo hated herself for taking a long indulgent sniff and feeling the comfort of her friend. If she closed her eyes, she could remember Paige being the big spoon. She could remember Paige sitting with the books because she knew Jo got restless being still for that long. Paige was supposed to be the smart one, the grounded one.

"Should I leave you alone with that pillow?"

Jo leapt up, grabbing the knife off of her bedside table with her good arm, fighting her face to keep stoic as her bad arm protested. She turned to face the demon (until Jo had definitive proof otherwise, she was calling this thing a demon) sitting casually in the chair tucked into the corner of the room.

"Your doormat isn't here," growled Jo, keeping her weapon aloft.

"I was looking for you, Barbie."

"What do you want?" Jo asked. The demon's eyes fell onto Jo's jeopardized arm. Jo followed his gaze. "You stay the hell away from me."

The demon stood, holding his palms open in front of him in a gesture of surrender. Jo didn't believe it for a second.

Paige seemed to have a relationship with the demon. With her around, Jo figured she had a better chance of not being killed. Alone, however, Jo was very aware of how little she knew about him and how powerful he must have been to earn Paige's trust and respect.

"I won't hurt you." Every step he took towards her was matched by her taking a step backwards, away from him.

"Yeah, how many people have heard that right before you ripped their faces off?"

The demon grinned.

"I like you. You're funny."

"Wish I could say the same about you."

Jo's back hit the wall. She focused every ounce of energy she had on keeping tough. If she was going to die in this motel room, it was going to be facing her attacker like a hunter, not cowering or running away.

The demon took another step towards her.

He reached out his arm towards her fractured one. Jo tightened her grip on the handle of her blade. He touched her arm, grazing his fingers along its length. As he brought his arm back, Jo slid her father's knife clean through his hand.

She watched in horror as he lazily retracted his hand and lifted it to his face for closer inspection. The blood was gushing from his palm, staining his sleeves as he held his hand upright.

Looking levelly at Jo, he slid it out, slowly, watching her to be sure that Jo saw every centimeter of the knife as it slid out of his flesh smoothly, like butter.

"Gosh, try to be a nice guy and see what it gets you." He said shaking his head.

Finally pulling knife wholly from his hand, he wiped his own blood off the silver.

"Hmmm, William Anthony Harvelle." He said, reading the inscription. He handed the knife back to her, making sure to do so with the hand she had stabbed so that she could fully appreciate the healed wound.

"How's the arm?" he asked her

Reflexively, Jo flexed her fingers and was amazed by the lack of stabbing pain. The demon took a step back from her, retiring to the chair on the other side of the room.

"What kinds of demons can heal?"

"Look, you don't have to call me what I actually am, but just don't call me a demon." His eyes flashed. It was a sensitive topic for him.

"Paige says you're an angel." Jo said. The eyes flashed again.

"You don't believe that, though."

"Why should I? To believe in angels is to believe in God. And I know, from experience, that there is no God. Only demons and chaos."

"There is a God. There are angels. Those are facts, not philosophical conversation topics."

"You really expect me to believe that?"

The demon shrugged, as if he didn't much care what Jo believed.

"Those artifacts you use; holy water, crosses, ancient, exorcism spells. Ever wonder why they _work_?"

Jo didn't answer.

"There is, what you refer to as God. He is the same God of all the monotheistic religions; Islam, Judaism and Christianity. His same power fuels all these, because they are parts of him, physical parts of him. That's why Rufus Turner and David Zapata can use Hebrew exorcism spells as effectively as The Winchesters use Latin. Same with Greek, same with Arabic."

"But, " the demon continued, "there are other Gods too. Just like humans fight over territory and resources, Gods fight over souls."

"Souls?"

"Souls are like oil to us. Infinitely powerful, energy, pure energy. So, there is a sort of constant competition amongst them. They all have their methods; the God you are referring to created angels to be soldiers."

"And messengers." Jo finished.

"Yes. And messengers." The demon said softly. For the first time since he had started talking, he broke his gaze from her.

"Paige called you Gabriel."

"Yes. She did."

"So, you're _the _Gabriel. Like, the really important and famous one? I've never even read the Bible and even I know who you are."

Gabriel wrinkled his nose distastefully as Jo accurately identified him.

"I'm a runaway." He said, meeting her gaze again, "The politics up there," Gabriel raised his eyes to the ceiling, "didn't suit me. I came down here. Started over. Took up the identity of a demigod, the Trickster, Loki. Paige was the first person to call me what I really was in almost two thousand years. Well, the first person to live and tell the tale."

"So, you're going to kill me?"

Gabriel sighed.

"Probably not. You're not going to go around blabbing this to everyone, are you?"

"No."

"Paige would be terribly upset if I killed you and, lets just say, I'm a little sentimental about my former lovers."

Jo winced.

"I really don't want to hear about you and Paige doing…that."

Gabriel had an unreadable expression on his face.

"Does the idea of sex with me repulse so horribly?"

"How can you even ask that?" asked Jo, her voice dripping with disgust, "You're not even _human_. You're just pulling the puppet strings of that poor son of a bitch meat suit you're wearing. Sex is about life. Sex is about being raw and being human and _needing._ It can be beautiful, and hot and amazing but not with something like _you."_

"Don't try to spare my feelings, now."

"You asked."

"So, as much as I love to hear how much my very physical presence disgusts you," Gabriel said lightly, turning in his seat, "I think that we should talk about Paige."

Jo tensed. As much as she was pissed and humiliated by Paige's less than stellar judgment, she instinctively got defensive when she heard her name.

"What about her?"

"Well, it is four fifteen in the morning. She, " he cocked his head as if listening to a distant radio, "is in those woods, all alone, ready to finish the job you ladies came into town to do. I think you owe it to her to have her back. "

Jo hesitated.

"I asked her not to tell you." Continued Gabriel, reading Jo's hesitation "The more people who know my real identity, the more chances I have of being found and killed by my brethren. Killed would be lucky. Lets just say that angels look poorly on those who disregard orders or think for themselves. "

Jo considered his words. She couldn't quite put her finger on why Gabriel seemed so trustworthy to her. Then she realized that it was Paige. It had always been Paige. Paige with her flaws, her ability to see the best in everyone or everything except herself. She couldn't leave her there in the woods alone. She couldn't leave her at all.

"She was protecting me, not lying to you."

That was all that Jo needed to hear.

* * *

Jo saw Paige's Cadillac parked alongside the road near the woods. As Jo reached the trees, she began searching for Paige's trail. It was dark, and Paige wasn't a terrible hunter, so finding it took a few seconds.

Every hunter, even the best in the world, left trails. It was inevitable. But, decent hunters were damn good at covering their tracks. If Jo hadn't known Paige and known her weaknesses, she might have never picked up her marker.

Paige would cover her actual footprints and lay dummy trails. Jo saw the dummy trail first and recognized it as what it was.

She knew she was getting close as she heard a few twigs snap about twenty feet ahead of her.

Jo kept walking towards where she heard the footsteps stop. She saw Paige outlined in the moonlight. Paige looked smaller without her jacket.

The faux leather bomber that Jo had picked out for her fell over her body when she wore it, doing no justice to her very generous curves. Jo thought that Paige preferred it that way, becoming sexless beneath it, sparing herself the unwanted attention. She looked naked and vulnerable without it.

"Jo?" Paige guessed as she heard Jo approach.

"I wasn't going to leave you out here alone, was I?" Jo held out Paige's coat towards her. She had brought it with her, knowing that Paige didn't have another.

"Jo, I'm so…" Paige started.

"Don't bother apologizing. You're terrible at it. Can we just go back to being a badass dynamic duo?"

Jo extended her hand, pinky first.

"Of course," said Paige. Jo couldn't see very well, but she could hear Paige smiling. Paige's beautiful smile, a little cautious, like she wasn't sure that she was allowed. Paige slipped her finger into Jo's.

Paige looked at Jo's arm, the one that had been injured.

"Gabriel?" Paige guessed.

"Yup," Jo nodded, "I don't know what to make of him yet, but at the very least, we have a powerful ally."

"He's more than an ally," Paige said firmly into the dark, "He's a friend."

Jo didn't have time to respond. The pair heard more footsteps in the woods. Paige grabbed Jo's elbow and pulled them both further under the shadow of the tree.

There was a man wearing a baseball cap walking. They saw his silhouette in the moonlight. He didn't notice them in the shadows.

Jo and Paige shared a look. This could be the next victim.

This suspicion was confirmed when they saw the outline of a woman a little further off, walking cautiously behind the man, mindful to stay in the shadows. She walked lightly, a predator stalking her prey. They had their ghost.

Jo crept up behind the demon while Paige walked ahead to keep a closer eye on the man.

Paige left Jo's immediate vision, getting closer to the man. Instead, Jo watched the woman. She was almost unearthly as she floated through the woods, quickly and nimbly. Jo closed the distance between them, her iron bar held aloft, ready to strike it through the ghost.

Without warning, the ghost turned and gave Jo a solid wallop to the head. Not a ghost, something solid. It had heard her approach.

Jo saw stars but stayed on her feet. She spun and punched, landing in the woman's stomach. The other woman grunted but cocked her elbow into Jo's ribs.

The woman stepped back, still doubled over, when Jo turned to deliver a roundhouse kick. The kick was caught in midair.

Only one other person had ever been able to catch Jo's foot mid swing. She had realized several seconds earlier that it was probably another hunter she was locked in hand to hand combat with, but the matching her blow for blow, the catching her foot…

The other woman jerked Jo's leg out from under her, knocking her onto the back.

Jo didn't struggle as she hit the ground.

This night was nothing if not full of surprises.

"Mom?" Jo asked her assailant, still in the shadows.


	27. Chapter 27: Great Expectations

**Woot! So, this chapter has taken me so long because I hit a serious block with writing Ellen's character. So, hopefully, another chapter to follow soon. Stay tuned and please review!**

Jo was still laid out on the ground, at the mercy of her shadowed assailant when Paige came crashing through the trees.

"Jo! Don't! It's Ellen. Jo! It's your Mo—"

Paige's mouth slammed shut as she saw Jo on the ground. Behind her, Jo heard some heavier panting and a mumbled curse.

"Oh, good." Grumbled Bobby as he came upon the scene. "We were afraid that Jo was going to hurt you."

"You should be worried for Jo, not me." Said Ellen coolly, giving Bobby an affronted look. "I ain't as young as I used to be, but I could kick her ass into next Tuesday."

"Good to see you too, Mom."

* * *

"How long before you think we should intervene?" Bobby asked Paige.

The four had climbed into Ellen's Jeep and driven to a local diner, the only place open that early. Bobby and Paige had gone in, even though neither was hungry. They did it to give Ellen and Jo time alone.

Though, it appeared needless. Both women were sitting silently in the car, neither talking, both staring stubbornly ahead.

"Once one of them pulls a gun," Paige said flatly.

Bobby smiled and then stirred his coffee again, though the cream and sugar he had added had long since dissolved and the untouched cup was in danger of getting cold. Paige held her own mug in her hands, though she had only taken a sip or two.

Bobby was starting to fidget and a malicious side of Paige enjoyed watching him squirm uncomfortably. He owed her an apology and she would be damned if she helped him out.

It had been two years. Two years since he had even picked up the phone to ask her where she was. How she was. To the rest of the hunter community, Paige had been John's student, but both Bobby and Paige knew that Bobby had been crucial to her training too. It wasn't John's car that she was driving. It wasn't John's guns that she toted or John's books that she read. John had taught her to fight, to scheme, to survive the lifestyle of a hunter. Bobby had filled in the blanks.

When Bobby cut her off, Paige was left floating. No one to turn to, no one to guide her. It was supposed to be Bobby's job. He chose to side with Ellen in the family feud that Paige had no real responsibility for. He chose to help the Winchesters, whom, Paige was certain, considered her to land somewhere between Hitler and demons on the evil scale. Paige understood that Bobby had other responsibilities. He had to keep his family and his loved ones close.

It just stung like a motherfucker that Paige hadn't made the cut.

"You're mad at me." Bobby guessed from Paige's continued silence.

"How are Sam and Dean?" Paige asked, mostly to throw it in his face.

"Not good, Paige." Said Bobby, defeated. "You don't like them. They're not terribly fond of you. But… they aren't bad people. You know Dean died? Went to Hell? He's still pretty screwed up from that. And Sam… I honestly don't know about Sam. I think Sam has always been on the brink of being really fucked up. I think it's finally catching him."

"And me? How have I been?" Paige asked softly. She had lost a bit of her righteous anger as Bobby told her about the suffering of Sam and Dean. She had heard about Dean, of course, everyone had. Sacrificing himself for his brother. Going to Hell and coming back. It was a legend amongst the hunter community.

As Bobby talked about Sam, however, Paige was washed in guilt. She remembered Gabriel's words. _There is darkness in Sam's soul that will one day come to the surface._ As weird as it was for her to think about; those two boys were part of John. A genetic, characteristic imprint that he had left behind. Though they hated her and she wasn't all that comfortable around them, they had mattered to John. He would want them to live and be happy, that was what he died for, after all.

To hear that they were suffering caused Paige to feel that she had let John down, in some way.

"You can't make me choose." Bobby said, matching Paige's soft tone. "I know you won't like to hear it, but John wasn't always the best father. I knew he thought he was doing what was right, but sometimes what was right was being there. Being around when Sam got the flu or for Dean's first crush. John wasn't very good at that. I was there. I was there when Sam got so sick that Dean stayed up all night, reading him stories through the closed bedroom door because I wouldn't let him go in there and catch the damn flu himself. And Dean's first crush? He was in the third grade. Her name was Mandy Thompson. He came home everyday for a week telling me every little detail about Mandy. How she wore her hair. The teddy bears on her lunch box. Every little word she had ever said in front of him. John's their daddy. He always will be. But I ain't a hat box in the attic myself. Those are my boys too."

She had spent her whole hunting career deliberately not thinking about the things that Bobby had just mentioned in a matter of minutes. John. Sam and Dean. And her own son, her own child.

She was supposed to listen to Abraham tell her about Mandy Thompson. She was supposed to read him stories when he had the flu.

"Bobby, I just missed you." She said. Her eyes were hot with tears. Tears that John had tried to beat out of her and tears that made Bobby squirm in his seat. She swallowed them.

Bobby couldn't apologize. Paige understood. Apologizing would be like admitting that he had done something wrong, and as far as Bobby was concerned, taking care of two boys who had lost their father was what he needed to do. If she wanted Bobby, she would have to share.

Bobby coughed and looked down at the table in front of him, but reached forwards and patted the back of Paige's hand. It was all that he knew how to do. It was enough for her.

* * *

"I'm not apologizing." Jo said finally breaking the silence in the parked car. Jo had always been very bad at silence.

"Fine." Said Ellen.

"I didn't do anything wrong."

"If you don't see nothing wrong with leaving your mother, your widow mother, to go do the same thing that got your daddy killed, then you ain't got a reason to apologize."

"Mom, don't say it like that."

"I'm sayin it like it is, Joanna Beth. "

"No, Mom. You're not. You're saying it like it is for you. You're not thinking of me."

"I am _always _thinking of you. I lay awake at night wondering where the Hell you are, if you're OK. If you're _alive. _I used to do the same when Bill would go on a huntin trip. One day, he didn't make it back. I wonder, every night, if you're gonna make it back."

"Momma, you're the one who said, 'No daughter of mine is gonna hunt.'"

"You're the one who went out and hunted anyway."

"Mom!" Jo yelled, slamming the dashboard of the Jeep with her fist. "Why can't you _hear _me? Why does it have to be your way or the highway? All I got is you, Momma."

"And all I got is you, Jo." Ellen replied thickly, " All I got is you because some demon came and took my Bill away. I promised him, every night before he left for a hunt, that I would keep you safe. And now you're runnin' head long into everything I swore I'd keep you away from."

"Why do you get to know Daddy?" asked Jo, her voice full of tears, "Why can't I know him?"

"What do you want to know about him? I'll answer any question you have, Jo Beth. Any question at all."

"It isn't facts, Mom. It isn't words or memories. When I'm hunting, I _feel_ him. I feel like he's watching me and I feel like he's proud. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe I'm crazy, but why is it so wrong for me to feel like I'm close to him? Sometimes, I feel like…" Jo's voice broke again, "I feel like he knows me better than you do."

Ellen pinched her nose as tears sprang to her eyes.

"I don't want it to be like that, Mom. I don't want to have to choose between what I think Daddy wants me to do and you. I can't be anything besides a hunter, Mom. I can't."

"Ok, Jo Beth."

"Mom?"

"Ok. You can hunt if you think that's what your Daddy wants. You're… you're a beautiful, smart, strong grown woman. You can hunt if you need to. But promise me, something?"

"Anything, Momma. Anything."

"I'm coming with you."

* * *

"So." Said Jo, by way of introduction, coming into the diner followed closely by Ellen. Jo cast a smile at Paige who's eyes were pink with tears. Jo's were too. Even Ellen had bags under her eyes. Paige laughed inwardly at the image of poor Bobby surrounded by three crying women.

Jo slid into the booth next to Paige while Ellen sat next to Bobby. Paige saw Bobby give her hand a gentle squeeze under the table. Their fingers remained entwined on the seat between them.

"What have you guys got on the case?" Jo asked Ellen and Bobby. Paige felt relief as the talk turned to the hunt. She didn't know about anyone else, but she was done feeling. She was done being sappy. If she let herself think about the hurricane of loss and doom and despair that was her existence, she would loose her mind. But a case? It was something that could, that needed, to be done.

"Well, we got the area and time, obviously." Said Ellen, "All the vics died of a overdose of a drug."

"Yeah, diamorphine." Paige said, "It's found in heroin. I'm not sure what to make of that."

"Neither are we." Said Bobby.

"We found physical needles," said Jo, "We're thinking maybe a poltergeist?"

"No history of violent deaths in the area." Said Ellen.

"Remember Caleb's hunt? The necklace in Ponchatoula Creek in Louisiana? Could be something similar."

"Yeah…" said Bobby, he still sounded skeptical "It's pretty rare though."

"A haunted object usually needs a trigger." Said Paige, "Like, someone to wear the necklace."

Jo and Paige cast each other glances. It was one thing for Jo to know about Gabriel, but Paige definitely didn't want Bobby and Ellen to know. The archangel was an element that Paige didn't want to add to this already highly combustible stubborn mother and daughter combination.

"We could go back now." Suggested Paige. "I mean, we won't catch the ghost, but we can cover more woods with so many of us. Maybe we can find something new."

* * *

The four hunters entered the woods and split up in a basic search formation. After a few hours, Paige still hadn't found anything. The woods were clean. No sulfur, no EMT reading. Nothing to suggest a ghost or demon. Nothing besides two dead bodies, that is.

Paige heard Ellen approach her from behind.

"Paige."

"Hey, Ellen. Nothing?"

"Nope." Ellen paused for a moment. "Paige, I think I owe you an apology."

"You don't owe me anything, Ellen. I don't know about you, but I've had enough apologies in the past twelve hours to last me a lifetime."

Ellen gave a weak smile and nodded.

"You know I think of you as a daughter?"

"Thanks, Ellen. That means a lot to me." Said Paige. She meant it, she did, but she was ready to move on. She couldn't cry anymore.

"What exactly is your relationship with Jo?"

Paige froze from where she was searching the ground half-heartedly for any sort of clue. She turned to face Ellen.

"We hunt together. We're friends. I guess I don't really know what you mean."

"You sure about that?"

No, thought Paige. Jo was so far past a friend that they needed a second word for it. Sisters would be closer, but still not really right.

Sisters wouldn't kiss like Jo kissed her. The first time under the Bacchus spell, the second time in Pennsylvania, the third time in D.C. Paige could count each and every kiss. Paige could feel them warm her lips, even when Jo was nowhere around. Sisters wouldn't have the dreams where she and Jo were together in every sense of the word.

"I mean, we're really close. Obviously. We're in the same foxhole and all that."

"You two share a bed."

"That doesn't really mean anything." Said Paige. She thought of Jo's hair under her nose, Jo's hand clasped over hers as they slept, curled around each other. "It just sort of started at the bar, when we shared a room. You know how Jo has zero boundaries."

"Yes. Exactly. That's why I'm asking."

Paige hoped that her face didn't turn as pink as it felt.

"Jo and I are… closer… than most people, normal people, ever become in a lifetime. She's my friend. She's my fellow soldier. She's my family. But, I don't think we're close in the sense that you are thinking."

"It's a shame." Said Ellen. She smiled as Paige looked at her, surprised. "Look, I know my daughter is a lot more… open… than most. You're not unattractive. I know that she sometimes seeks the companionship of other women. I've never cared, never will. I just want my daughter loved. I want my daughter loved by someone so much that it hurts, a little. I was so lucky to find Bill. Hunters… we're like unattached comets bouncing around space. The odds of us running into another hunter, of the appropriate age, personality and lack of attachments is like winning the lottery twice in one day. I heard things didn't really work out between you and Zapata and I'm sorry. One of the most dangerous things about hunting is living your whole life never knowing what real love and partnership is. I worry about my Jo Beth."

"Well, I do care about her. And I do love her. But not the way you want."

Ellen pursed her lips for a few minutes. She nodded her head and the two started back towards where Bobby and Jo had split.

"See, the question I keep coming back to, "said Ellen, "Is, 'Why you?'"

"What?"

"Oh, honey," said Ellen quickly, "I didn't mean that you aren't good enough. Everyday I think that you were the best choice my girl could have made. Which is one reason I'm suspicious. Jo ain't really known for her good decision making skills. What I meant was, out of all the hunters she knew, out of all the hunters she heard of, why she'd go off with you? She hardly knew you. I mean, I can think of twenty hunters that would have loved to have taken her along. Hunters she's known longer than you. Hunters who got quite a reputation for baggin hunts. And after she got so mad at the Winchesters, just for lookin like their daddy, the fact that she sought you out was what really floored me. You loved him. You loved him something fierce. I can see it"

At that moment, Bobby let out a long whistle. Ellen and Paige both looked toward the noise. Bobby whistled again.

"He's got something." Said Ellen as she jogged towards him. Paige was a half of a step behind her.

* * *

"What 'cha got, Bobby."

"Actually, Jo found it. "

Jo looked smugly over Bobby to her mother.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Joanna." Ellen said, tired, "What are we looking at?"

It was foot prints.

In itself, it wasn't that odd. A lot of people cut through the woods to get to school or the town center. What was odd about the footprints was that they weren't shoes. Someone was walking barefoot. The footprints disappeared beneath a rock pile.

"Demon?" Ellen asked. "Could be possessing some poor person. Demons aren't always the best at remembering human norms, like shoes."

Jo squatted down.

"I can fit under here."

"You better not try." Said Bobby. Ellen made a sound of agreement.

Paige reached into her bag. She procured a spray bottle.

"What is that?" asked Ellen.

"My demon detector." Said Paige simply.

"You're kidding." Said Ellen. Jo, however, from her position on the ground reached up for it. Jo took the water bottle down to her level and began to spray under the rocks.

"Holy water, " Paige explained. Bobby and Ellen nodded, but still looked a little incredulous. After nothing happened, Jo looked back up to them.

"See?" she asked, "no demon. Be right back"

"Jo Beth you—" Ellen's comment was cut off as Jo slipped easily beneath the rock.

Paige caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

It was a woman. Beautiful and pale, with long red hair. Paige couldn't have done more than blink when, suddenly, the woman was gone.

"Jo?" asked Ellen after a couple more seconds. There was no response.

Jo had always been very bad at silence.

Paige, with a sick feeling of dread, dropped to her stomach and looked under the rock.

"Jo!" she cried as she saw her friend. She stood. "Bobby, Ellen, help me." She said, trying to move the rocks to get access to Jo. Bobby, Ellen and Paige grasped at the at the boulder for a few moments. "Wait," mumbled Paige, "Wait, stop. We don't want to knock them over. We could crush her. Go get help." Said Paige to Bobby and Ellen.

"I'm not leaving my daughter." Ellen said.

"Trust me, would you?" Paige snapped. Ellen looked taken aback. "Sorry. But, just, there isn't anything more you can do here. If you both go you can split up."

"C'mon." Bobby said gently, holding Ellen by the arm, "we'll be right back."

The two jogged towards the Jeep.

When they were finally gone, Paige pulled Gabriel's brassy coin from her pocket. She didn't even need to finish thinking his name when she sensed him behind her.

Wordlessly, Gabriel lifted the top rock from the pile. Paige took the opportunity to grab Jo and pull her out of the makeshift cave.

Jo didn't wake up. Her lips were turning pale and her breathing was shallow. Paige prayed that they weren't too late. As she tried to pull her friend to safety, Paige felt resistance.

As she looked down, there was a dirty hand holding her friend's coat sleeve. Near Jo's hand was a tiny needle, identical to those Jo had found earlier. Sure enough, there was a tiny pinprick of blood on her hand.

Paige followed the dirty hand to a dirtier arm and finally a small, squinted face, coated in grime and filth. It contorted into a grimace as it tried to escape, scrambling over Jo's body, it tried to run away.

Gabriel easily caught it in a single hand, quickly crushing it's windpipe in a coldly efficient fist.

"Gabriel, Jo." Paige said, pulling his attention away from the small filthy person that he had just executed. He placed a finger on her.

"Is she better?" asked Paige. Jo was still unconscious, but her breathing was more regular.

"Yeah." Said Gabriel, putting the rock that he had been holding the entire time down beside him. "Take her to a hospital. It will be too suspicious if she just wakes up suddenly. I have to go. Your hunting pack is growing exponentially. I let Jo know of my presence, but no more. That one, Bobby, he's met another angel. I can smell it on him. They'll smell me, on you and definitely on Jo. Avoid angels at all costs, got it?"

"Yeah. Wait, Gabriel, what was that?" she pointed at the corpse Gabriel had left in a crumpled heap.

"That is Stanley Lunde. A very troubled schizophrenic man who found solace in an addiction to heroin. He thought he was helping."

"Human? He's human?"

"Was. He's dead. Oh, I should probably take his body, shouldn't I? Can't have another murder on your hands, can you? What? Too soon?"

"Gabriel…"

"Fine. Sorry. I'm taking him. I'll leave…" Gabriel flicked his wrist after he had hoisted Stanley's body over his shoulder. Where Stanley had laid now laid a scaly reptile. It was massive and motionless. Another corpse. An excuse to give Bobby and Ellen. "There. All loose ends take care of? Good. I'll see you."

The archangel vanished just as Ellen and Bobby came running back into the field.

"What is that?" asked Ellen, seeing the monster's corpse.

"I have no idea. I pulled Jo out and it came running out with her. I killed it with a my knife."

"Ok." Said Ellen as she saw that Jo was breathing, "Ok, Bobby, Paige. You guys drag that body away and bury it, burn it. Whatever you have to do. I'll wait here. An ambulance is coming."

* * *

The first thing Jo saw when she woke up in the hospital room was a balloon. It was tied to her wrist. For a second, she drowsily picked at the ribbon.

"When they figured out that you weren't dying, they moved you out of the ER. The only bed available was in the pediatric ward."

Jo recognized the voice.

"Hi, Gabriel." She said. She still didn't like him very much and waking up to him in a hospital wasn't helping his case. "Where are my human friends and family?"

"Oh, they kicked them out a few hours ago. You weren't critical. They have visiting hours assigned."

"Why didn't they kick you out?"

Gabriel gestured to his outfit. The angel was dressed in scrubs and a lab coat. Jo sighed as she remembered that the angel had infinite powers, at least from what Paige had told her.

"Oh. I guess that was a dumb question."

"Just a little."

"Ok, why are you here then? I'm fine."

"Yes. You are now."

"Did you heal me?" she asked.

The angel nodded.

"Why? For Paige, again? Your lover?"

"Is that what she told you?"

"It seems like she doesn't tell me anything anymore. Did you catch what was killing the people? What was it?"

"The story that Bobby and Ellen know is that it was a Lizard Man."

"What the fuck is that?"

"Something I invented. I read in a tabloid. Someone saw a Lizard Man in South Carolina. I had to think quickly. It isn't my most creative state."

"Wait, so what was really hurting those people?"

"Another person. A human. He was very sick."

"A person? A person was doing that?"

"Yes."

"Is he OK?"

"No."

Jo looked away from the cold archangel. How could Paige trust him so fully? He was severe and cruel and mean. Jo knew that Paige was a little screwy in the "self worth" department. Her relationship with John was practically abusive and she pushed good, kind, loving, _human _Zapata away with both hands. But this? This… cold, heartless _thing_ she rolled into bed with? He was scary and, angel or no, Jo was pretty sure he was evil.

"Poor Paige." Said Jo, voicing her thoughts. "Why would she ever climb into your arms?"

"Excuse me?"

"My friend. My beautiful friend is wrapped up in…you. You can't love."

"I beg your unbelievable, human pardon," said the archangel. He cocked his head to the side. "Are you really going to sit there and tell me what I can and cannot feel?"

"Yup."

"You don't even know me. I saved your ass. Then, I came here because I didn't think you'd want to wake up, in a hospital, alone. Forgive me and my evil ways."

"You know how I know you're a heartless bastard?" Jo continued, as if she hadn't heard him, "Is that you can stand there, in all your power, and not help."

"Are you thick or just not listening? I healed you. I pulled you from the rocks. I've been around awhile. Perhaps the meaning of your English word, 'help' has changed while I wasn't looking."

"You're in the pediatric ward of a hospital." Said Jo ,"You can heal each and every one of these children with a touch."

"It isn't that simple and you aren't that naive."

"It can be that simple. You can make it that simple."

"Are you telling me that you have been raised a hunter and you don't understand the simple basics of death? Everyone has a number. If yours gets called, you go up. That's all folks. If, for whatever reason, a someone's number gets skipped, then the next person in line gets called up, even though it isn't their turn."

"You saved my life."

Gabriel pursed his lips.

"You... you saved me… but that means that… someone replaced me? In death?"

Gabriel didn't answer.

"So, you can do it. You just are picky. You're trying to keep things all warm and fuzzy for Paige so you take life away from others. Is that it? I'm special, but he -" Jo pointed to a child sleeping across the hall, "deserves to die, just because he doesn't know you personally?"

"That is how it's always been. Paige is… important. Not just to me, to all angels. She has a role to play. Until she fulfils it, she's on the watch list. And you… are on her periphery. I care… very much about the people I've been with. You can sit there and tell me that I can't love. Maybe not the way that you think of it, in your human terms, but I care. "

Gabriel stood.

"If you care about Paige, you'll let her be happy with a human. " Jo called to his back. "Even if you care, you can't replace another human. You're cold, and you're logical and you're mean. Humans aren't. Humans are warm and loving. We're impulsive. We're tender."

Gabriel walked deliberately to the child across the hall. Without looking at Jo, without looking at the child's parents sleeping in their chairs beside his bed, the angel touched the child's temple.

The child let out a long breath. A breath that sounded like it had been held for his whole life. It was a sigh of relief.

With that, the angel vanished.

The mother stirred as she heard the child wake. She smiled as she saw her son, happy and healthy. She didn't know that he was cured yet. She didn't know that whatever was wrong with the child was no more.

She didn't know how lucky her son was to be across the hall from the girl who dared to challenge the archangel.


	28. Chapter 28: Lady Garcia's Lover

**Phew. This is a long one. You know, when I first envisioned this, I really didn't plan for Jo and Gabriel to even interact. But, as I write them together, I find that I love them as a pairing. That is one of my favorite things about writing... discovering characters like Jo and Gabriel and Zapata. You don't really expect much from them, then you look away for a _second _and, somehow, they've become these fascinating and complex people. It's like they have a life of their own and, honestly, if that isn't the best part of reading and writing a story, then I have no clue what is.**

**So, some warnings... sexy sex is happening. Drugs are referred to and drinking is done. That, kids, is called a raging fucking night.**

* * *

"What's up, New York? Are you ready to rock?" said Jo as a greeting as she entered the motel room where Bobby and Paige were. Ellen entered behind her, rolling her eyes but unable to keep the smile from her lips. The smile of relief that Jo was walking and talking as if she hadn't been pale and damn near dead the day before.

"Hey," said Paige, putting her hand over Jo's as Jo clapped her shoulder. "Everything OK at the hospital?"

Paige tried to not let the resentment she felt seep into her voice. She understood why Ellen wanted to pick Jo up from the hospital and she understood why Ellen wanted to spend alone time with her daughter. Paige just felt restless whenever Jo wasn't around, a little resentful that Ellen's alone time with Jo cut into her own time with her.

"As always." Jo said, "So… Lizard Man?"

She and Paige shared a smile at their secret joke. Bobby saw it and furrowed his brow, looking suspiciously between the two.

"I've never even heard of one," Paige explained to his creased forehead, "That's so… random."

"What about the woman?" asked Jo, "The woman that those people saw. What was she?"

"Well," said Bobby, "Paige saw her too, right before you went under the rocks. She says that she looked like this—" Bobby plopped an old book on the table.

"A banshee?" asked Jo, reading off the page that Bobby placed in front of her.

"Yes," said Paige softly, "She is an omen of… death. She wasn't the cause of the deaths she just predicted them. "

Ellen kissed Jo's head as she walked over to the table where Bobby and Paige were sitting. Her eyes watered a little at the thought of her baby girl dying. At how close to death Jo really was.

"I don't know about y'all," she said, "but I'm starving."

* * *

The four pulled into a bar. The night was still very young, so it wasn't terribly crowded.

As they ate, Ellen kept on reaching over and patting Jo's hair or just looking at her, her eyes glassy with the memory of how close her daughter had been to death.

Paige felt a pull in her own stomach as she remembered what it felt like to be a mother. She ignored it, most of the time. It wasn't a thought that ever really left her. Her son. A big ball of helpless fat and wrinkles that she loved so much that it felt like the world revolved around him.

Watching Ellen look at Jo with big brown eyes, the same exact shade as her daughter's, made Paige realize that it never went away. Ellen was looking at Jo, marveling at the miracle that was her daughter's life, eyes watering at the memory of how close she had been to losing her. It reminded Paige of how she once looked at Abraham. Except, Ellen still had Jo. She had lost her son.

And it made her feel sick.

Paige excused herself and sat at the bar, away from the mother and daughter. She was followed closely by Bobby.

"Two whiskey's" Bobby, ordering for them "Beam, if you got it."

"Thanks." Paige said to him.

"You doing Ok?"

Paige shrugged. Bobby nodded. They were both spared the need to talk more as the whiskey came.

"I did some more reading on that Banshee." Said Bobby abruptly after taking an indulgent swig. "Got to a part of the book that you failed to mention."

Paige chose to lick her lips and swirl the ice in her glass rather than answer him. Bobby huffed. Unlike Jo and Ellen who seemed to possess a genetic predisposition to asking awkward and personal questions without the slightest embarrassment, Bobby was turning blue in the lips as he tried to phrase what he wanted to say.

Paige took pity on him.

"Ellen already talked to me about that."

"Lore holds that it ain't the victim that sees the Banshee, but the one they leave behind. The witnesses that saw the banshees? One was the wife of the man, the other the girlfriend."

"Just ask it Bobby."

"You and Jo getting to up to more than hunting together?"

Paige swallowed the last of her whiskey and put it down on the table with a bit of a slam.

"Yes." She said. Bobby's jaw dropped onto the floor, "We eat together. We sleep together. We drive together. We talk together. Bobby, the line between me and Jo can get pretty damn fuzzy. Sometimes, I'll be feeling kind of low and depressed, and I'll look over and Jo will be the same way. I don't always know who started it, but you can bet that when one of us feels something, the other will follow."

"The lore says soul mates."

"Yes, well, the lore was written as a poem. They get kind of fast and loose with the 'soul mate' business. I am closer to Jo than anyone else in this world. Nothing more."

"Ok." Said Bobby.

"So," said Paige, deciding that if Bobby could interrogate her about Jo, she had license to ask him about Ellen. Bobby seemed to guess where she was going even before the question was out of her mouth.

"Yeah. I guess Ellen and I are together now. We've been hunting off and on together since the Roadhouse burned. After Jo disappeared. I think she has been hoping that she would run into her this whole time."

"What do you mean, 'guess'?"

"We'll, we've never sat down and talked about it."

"But you're hooking up."

Bobby winced at Paige's phrasing, which confirmed it.

"That's good Bobby." Said Paige, patting his arm, "That's really good. I'm so happy that you aren't alone."

'_Like I am_.' The words rang in her head. Bobby sensed them.

"You got Jo."

"Not the way you have Ellen." Paige was a little surprised at the melancholy flavor of the words as they left her mouth. Paige swallowed. She needed to change the subject.

"Whatever happened between you and Rufus?" asked Paige.

"I figured you and Jo were going to him for help." Said Bobby.

"I saw a picture of you three. You, Rufus and Ellen. You guys hunted together for a few years, right?"

"He tell you that?"

"No. I read it in one of his journals."

"Read anything else?"

"It was odd." Said Paige, "There were entire pages of the journal ripped out. Months that just disappeared. They happened during the years that I think you guys were hunting together. Bobby, he trained you. What the hell happened?"

"We had a fall out in Omaha. The summer of 1993."

"That was one of the pages missing from the journal." said Paige, "Was it a bad hunt?"

Bobby didn't need to respond as they heard footsteps behind them. Ellen placed her hand on the back of Bobby's chair.

"What do you say we hit the hay then meet up tomorrow morning and figure out where to go from there?"

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" asked Jo.

"Joanna, behave." Said Ellen, as Bobby turned pink. He nodded in agreement to Ellen and the two older hunters got up and left. Paige thought that Bobby looked immensely relieved to not have to answer Paige's question.

In a very un-Bobby like move, Bobby slid his arm around Ellen's shoulders as they drew close to the door. Ellen looked up at him, surprised, and Bobby kissed her forehead tenderly.

"Things get kinky after 45." Joked Jo as she watched them leave. She had grabbed Bobby's drink and was sucking on an ice cube.

"Do you know what happened between Bobby and Rufus?" asked Paige.

"No." said Jo, but she leaned forward with interest. "But it was the last time that my Mom and Bobby and Rufus hunted together as a group. Very weird. There must have been some kind of fallout. "

Paige bit her lip.

"Nothing like that could ever happen between you and me, right?" she asked Jo.

"No." said Jo, linking her fingers with Paige. "I mean, we've had a couple of tiffs, but, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, I'd rather fight with you everyday for the rest of our lives than hunt without you once."

"That's so romantic." Paige joked.

But she was relieved. Relieved that despite Gabriel and Spencer, Jo was sitting beside her, attacking the leftover ice in her drink. Paige leaned so that her shoulder was resting against Jo's and Jo's was resting against hers.

With that, they ordered another drink.

* * *

"Hello, ladies." Said a voice right behind them. "I think heaven must be missing a couple of angels. They're sitting right here at this bar."

Paige and Jo had finished up two more drinks and the bar was starting to grow crowded. Somewhere, during the past few hours, the bar had filtered in a crushing crowd and the music had been turned up for those so inclined to dance.

Jo, between her blonde hair and low-rise jeans could rarely sit at a bar, unbothered, for long. Paige had little patience for such overt sexual advances, but she was happily buzzed and in a good mood.

Jo looked the newcomer over.

He was average height, though a little more muscular than ordinary. His biceps were tugging at the seams of his too tight tee shirt. He looked to be about their age, if not younger.

Jo approved of him and smiled broadly.

"Is that so?" she asked. She yelled slightly to be heard over the crowd and music.

He leaned in to talk into Jo's ear. Paige didn't hear what he said, but Jo laughed and hit him on the arm playfully. Paige turned away from the couple towards the bar. The way Jo was letting him nuzzle her neck under the pretext of trying to be heard made her curiously thirsty.

"Let me get this one for you, gummy bear." The man said, putting a hand on Paige's knee. The other was resting, higher up, on Jo's own leg.

The second that the words were out of his mouth, Paige froze. She looked at the man again, closer. There was a telltale glint of mischief behind his gaze.

Paige leaned forward to talk into his ear.

"You sure that _we're_ the angels that heaven is looking for?"

Gabriel smirked. Turning his head so that Jo couldn't see, he flashed the familiar honey brown eyes of his vessel at her before transforming them back into the bright blue ones of his new disguise. He placed a finger over his lips as he nodded his head towards Jo.

"What did you tell him?" Jo asked with a loud laugh. She was just the right amount of drunk, Paige gauged. Buzzed enough that everything was funny and light. Buzzed enough that half formed and shouted sentences and statements in a sloppy, crushing dance crowd were absolutely hilarious. She was beaming and leaning forward. She was _flirting _with him. Paige had to hide a smirk.

The words that Jo had yelled at her about Gabriel, that he couldn't be trusted and that he was dangerous, still stung. Jo was right that Gabriel was dangerous. He was the most powerful being that she had ever met.

But, at the same time, Gabriel had helped her, saved her and been there for her enough times to earn her trust. It hurt that Jo thought so little of her judgment. Paige decided to play along with Gabriel's game. If anytime was appropriate for Jo to get introduced to Gabriel's particular brand of humor and affection it was now.

"I told him that you think he's hot." Paige yelled into Jo's ear. Jo playfully hit Paige's arm. Gabriel smiled between the two women, pretending that he couldn't hear what they were saying, though Paige was positive that the archangel was listening with rapt attention.

"He is really cute. Would you mind if I…?"

Paige was pretty sure that she saw Gabriel struggle for a millisecond to keep a straight face as the words left Jo's mouth.

"No! Not at all!"

"You sure? A little dancing might help you forget Zapata."

"Maybe later."

Jo shrugged and squeezed Paige's shoulder before turning to the young and muscular archangel in disguise.

"I love this song." Jo yelled into Gabriel's ear.

Without further ado, Gabriel held his hand out to her and the pair made their way to the dance floor.

Paige had seen Jo dance before, but she was in perfect form this night. Her lithe body was flowing and echoing Gabriel's. With every rise and dip of tempo she rose and fell, her chest heaving, her hips swaying. She was laughing. She was captivating.

She slid into Gabriel's space, her fingers circling around the hair at the base of his neck. Her legs sliding between his. Her chest still moving up and down in a beat that was simultaneously in line with the music and with Gabriel's own rhythm.

Gabriel let her, one of his hands resting on her hip, the other along her lower back.

Paige hadn't expected to feel… whatever it was that she felt. She was vaguely reminded of Portland, when sex zombie Jo had kissed and touched and moved with the same archangel.

Paige swallowed the bile that rose in her throat as she saw Jo seducing him. Paige wasn't having fun with the game anymore. She decided to tell Jo that it was Gabriel when the pair came back from the dance floor, trying not to think about how far Gabriel, without her intervention, would take his little joke.

"You look like you need another." The bartender yelled over the music.

"Thanks." Said Paige, giving him a smile. He returned it.

"What was it that you had?" he asked.

"Sorry, what?" Paige asked. Try as she might, she couldn't pull her eyes from her two friends swaying together in a sea of skin, hair and lips. The bartender followed her gaze and his face softened.

"I asked what you were drinking." He said kindly.

"Oh. This was a Beam. But… I could go for something a little stronger."

"Stronger than whiskey?" he asked, laughing a little.

"Can you help me out?" asked Paige, smiling sheepishly.

"Yeah." He said, "Yeah. I can."

He turned his back to Paige as he went to work, occasionally flashing a smile over his shoulder. Suddenly Paige realized, he was hitting on her.

"This," he said, putting the tall drink in front of her, "Will have you being carried out of this bar tonight, with any luck."

His hand grazed over hers. His eyes locked into her own, then flicked down to her lips. He stayed there for a beat too long.

He was hitting on her, and not in a bartender way. Not in the way that was fishing for tips or for fun. He was looking at her like she was a prime steak and he was ravenous. Between the drinks that she and Jo had downed before and the music and the sick, restless feeling she got whenever her eyes drifted to Gabriel and Jo together, Paige didn't mind it one bit.

He skimmed his fingers along her wrist a second time as he stood to attend to another customer. Paige sipped the drink he left in front of her. He wasn't kidding. The thing was practically lethal.

Paige saw Gabriel and Jo inch closer together on the floor. Her fingers had slipped beneath his shirt and were roaming the small of his back. His face was nestled into her long blonde hair, one hand holding her cheek, the other running along her body as the music rose and fell. They were surrounded by people but were touching and moving like they were alone. Like they were in a room with a bed and dim lighting and no shame.

Paige stood, carrying her drink and walked towards the bathrooms. She didn't need to use them. She didn't need to do anything besides do _something_. Because she was drunk, she established that now, and because her best friends in the world were out there touching, and smelling and breathing all sweaty bodies and pounding music and roaming hands. And she was a third wheel. And she was sad. And she was so, very, very alone.

She leaned against the wall of the bar, the music becoming just an echo of pounding bass from where she was.

"Hey, you OK?" asked the bartender. He had followed her out. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Hands.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Paige said. She leaned into him like Jo had leaned into Gabriel, placing her hand at the base of his neck. "Can you do me an enormous favor?"

"Sure. You need me to call someone?"

"Not quite." She said.

He gave her a confused look. She slid her hand lower down his arm. She wanted this. She wanted so badly to just be fucked and be _with _someone. Just hands and sweat and everything in between.

Lacing her fingers with his, she led him down the hall to what she was sure was a store room. She tested the door. It was open.

"What are you -" the bartender started when Paige pressed her lips up against him. She moved her arm around his back, sliding her fingers under his shirt just like she had watched Jo do. She knew she wasn't as sexy as Jo. She was so far out of her element here that she wasn't sure who exactly she was. She just knew that she wanted to do this. She wanted to fuck a bartender just because he was there and because he had touched her hand as he gave her her drink. Just because he had leaned in too long to be casual.

She was tired of thinking about Zapata and the future. She just wanted this, now. Partly because her body was screaming out for affection and partly because she was sick of sitting around like John's untouched widow.

That wasn't her life. It wasn't her legacy.

"Whoa, tiger." The bartender said. "Slow down a bit, eh? You're really drunk. Is that blonde girl your friend? I'll go get her if you stay here."

"Wait." Paige said, "Wait a second. I'm sorry. I just… I know that girls who do this are always saying that they never do this… but please, wait a second."

"How old are you?" he asked her.

"You checked my ID." Paige reminded him.

He thought for a moment.

"Twenty four. You're twenty four." Paige nodded. "Do you know how old I am?"

"I don't care."

"You want to fuck me and you don't care?"

"I meant…" Paige started. She stopped. She didn't know what she meant. "I meant that it doesn't matter to me if you were eighteen or eighty. I want you."

"Because of my personality?" he said with a knowing smirk, "You want to fuck me because your friend is practically groping that guy on the dance floor. You want me because I'm a bartender and you want to slum it. Sorry, sister. I don't do kids and I don't deal with their drama."

"I'm no kid."

"You're acting like one."

"Sorry." Paige said, biting her lip. "I'm sorry. What's your name?"

"I thought you didn't care."

"My name is Sophie." Paige said, ignoring his snide tone. "My name is Sophie Glassman."

"Sophie, huh?" said the bartender, "I'm pretty sure your license said your name was Natalie. Look, kid. I'm not doing this with someone who doesn't even trust me with their name. What? Do you have a boyfriend or husband or something? I'm no one's dirty little secret."

Paige gave a weak laugh.

"You remembered my name?"

"Yeah. I thought you were cute. Of course, that was before ten minutes ago."

Paige looked at him for a long minute. Then she reached into her purse. She pulled out her wallet. She paused for a moment before handing it to him.

"What is…" he started, staring at the ID cards in his hand. Then he began flipping through them. One after another. Natalie Davis from Arizona. Julie Barnes from Minnesota. Kate Ryan from Texas. He stared up at her in shock. "What is this? Why are you showing me these?"

Paige shrugged.

"Because I want to know your name." she said.

"Are you crazy? I could… I _should_ call the cops. What the hell are you? Some kind of drug dealer?"

"No. I'm not a drug dealer. You're free to call the cops… but I don't think you will. I'd be gone before they got here, anyways . This is my job. This is my life. My real name is Sophie Glassman. I can't tell you what I do, but I can tell you that I do good. I try to help people."

"I can't believe…" he stammered.

"What's your name?"

"Jason. My name is Jason, and you are crazy."

"Do I scare you?"

"No.. not really,"

"Are you going to turn me in?"

"No…"

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

Jason swallowed. He slowly stepped forward and he placed the wallet back in Paige's purse. With a minute snap, he then closed the tiny metal clasp. He pinched his lips as he thought.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do, but this is so…"

"Would you fuck me?" asked Paige.

"Sophie… I—"

Paige leaned up and kissed him. Her touches weren't raw and sloppy anymore. There was less urgency, but no less direction. Paige still wanted, needed to be with him tonight.

"Jason." Said Paige, softly, "Jason. You're right. I don't know you. I won't be here tomorrow. I feel lonely tonight and I think you do too. You aren't my dirty little secret. I don't really want to be yours. But I want you. I want you to fuck me, please. I'm asking you to please, help me. Just tonight. Just right now."

Her forehead was pressed against his. Her hands were at his hips. She felt him lean into her. She felt his breath on her skin speed up as she touched the inch of flesh above his belt.

"Please." She murmured, her fingers fumbling with the buckle. With a cling, the heavy belt slid from his pants and onto the floor. Paige began to work on the zipper of his pants.

"Please…" she murmured again. Jason's hands began to move down her body and up to her hair, his fingers tangling in it. Paige dropped to her knees.

"Oh, my god, I can't believe—" Jason's words caught in his throat as Paige began to touch him beneath his pants. Jason looked down at her in shock as Paige slid his pants the rest of the way down and began to kiss his cock. Her tongue peeked out from between her lips as she went down on him.

Jason let out a desperate gasp as Paige wrapped her lips around him. Working him fully hard.

"Jesus, God, " Jason breathed. He reached down and guided her up so that she was standing. He ran a thumb across her cheek then leaned in to tenderly kiss her. Tentatively, he took off his shirt. Paige smiled weakly at the sight of the man, whom she had just been on her knees for, look almost shy as he undressed.

She reached behind her and unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor, She stepped out of it.

"Wow," murmured Jason, soaking her in. "Wow, I…"

Paige smiled and, emboldened, stepped forwards and kissed him again. Jason's hands explored her, tracing the gentle ravine down her spine and slipping his hand into her white cotton underwear. He slipped his fingers into her and let out a content murmur at the wetness that his fingers found.

"Thank you, Jason." Paige whispered. Jason lowered her to the ground of the storeroom, being careful to lay her on the shirt he had just stripped out of. Paige smiled again at his thoughtfulness. "Thank you." She whispered as he slid into her.


	29. Chapter 29: The Tale of Two Hunters

**Hi, Kids. So, I'm currently in the market for a Beta reader... if anyone is interested. All my stories are unbetaed. Hopefully it wasn't painfully obvious. **

**So, Paige actually isn't in this chapter at all, I just realized. Jo/ Gabriel and Bobby/ Ellen, so some actual classic Fanfictioning going on up in here. I'm actually thinking about posting the last half as a one shot of just Bobby and Ellen together, then with my own little interpretation of the fallout between Rufus and Bobby. **

**Leave reviews! PLEASE! **

* * *

Jo was high, though from what, she couldn't be sure.

She had definitely been drunker. And she knew that she had been higher.

Jo pulled away from 'blonde guy' as she had dubbed him in her head, not having caught his name.

Jo hadn't realized that one song had turned into two, then five until she looked at her phone and realized that she and blonde guy had been dancing for almost an hour. An hour she hadn't even felt.

Jo was no stranger to the intoxicating effect of alcohol and the attention of a sexy young man, but she couldn't believe that she had left Paige alone at the bar for that long. She found that the closer she got to the strange young man, the better she felt. Like cocaine and ecstasy and weed all rolled into one. She was full of energy and yet calm. She heard colors and felt music and yet was completely lucid.

"Hey." She yelled into blonde guy's ear, "My friend. I don't see her, do you?"

Blonde guy looked up as well. Jo thought she saw a genuine concern flit across his face. Surprising, since he had just met them. Jo didn't have time to think about it as her phone started ringing.

She left the bar to go outside and answer it. Blonde guy followed her.

"Yo. I'm so sorry, I just lost track of time. Did you go to the room?" Jo asked apologetically.

"Yeah. No worries. I'll talk to you when you get back, look there is something I need to tell you. Don't bring that guy you were dancing with back to the room. And don't hook up with him in his car or anything either."

"What? Why?" asked Jo, glancing at blonde guy.

"It's Gabriel."

"Oh." Said Jo. As she turned back to him, blonde guy had been replaced with the cocky dark haired vessel that she recognized. The archangel was all but laughing in her face.

"Look, I'm really sorry. He is just messing with you. He does that. It's harmless... mostly. Don't take it personally."

"How long did you know?"

"Since he called me 'gummy bear.'" Said Paige, "Really, I'm sorry. I jus—"

"Yeah, ok." Snapped Jo, hanging up on her. Dropping her phone back into her bag, she rounded on Gabriel.

"What. The. Fuck." She said.

"Oh, c'mon, you were having a blast."

"You, stupid, ugly dick."

"Ok, clearly you're angry." Said Gabriel. He touched the back of Jo's arm to guide her away from the crowd in the front of the bar. She jerked out of his grip and stared daggers at him. Gabriel held his hands up in surrender. "Ok, Ok, no touching, got it. But can we move your little outburst to somewhere with fewer witnesses?"

"Fine." Said Jo. She looked around the street.

"Ok, good." He said.

Without warning, Jo was suddenly in freefall and everything went white. Finally, and yet all too soon, the world became back into focus, though spinning mercilessly. She managed to stay upright.

"Where are we?" she asked with trepidation as her surroundings settled. Jo saw an absurdly large bed with a chandelier over it.

"The president's suite at the Plaza."

"We're in _New York City_?"

"Yes."

"You're fucking with me."

"Only if you want to. I can always get us transferred to a room with mirrors on the ceiling, if you're into that."

Jo ignored his comment.

"Why are we in the president's suite?"

"Because the honeymoon suite has a complementary 'honeymoon' gift basket full of every toy, accessory and prop you could wish for and some you can't begin to imagine. I thought it might intimidate you."

"Is that where you took Paige?"

"You are like a dog with a bone on the whole me and Paige having sex thing."

"It's because it is disgusting."

"Because it's with me, an angel," asked Gabriel, cocking his head, "Or because she isn't with you?"

"Funny."

"I wasn't trying to be."

"You know, it really isn't fair that you are called an angel." Jo continued, "I mean, yeah, it sounds great, but you're just like a really powerful demon. You aren't _good_."

"What is 'good' exactly?"

"Not you, that's for fucking sure."

"Because I kill? Because I kill criminals and bullies? Is that it?"

"Yeah, for starters."

"I see, and, when you kill a demon, cutting it's head off or burning it alive, you kill the host too. Is that good or bad?"

"It isn't the same."

"No? What about war? Is that evil? Are all soldiers evil?"

"It _isn't _the same as you." Said Jo.

"Alright," Gabriel relinquished lightly.

"Why did you even bring me here?" asked Jo, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked at the ground.

"Well, the way you pressed yourself into me at the club…" said Gabriel, a mean joke shining in his eye.

"You're really going to bring that up right now?" asked Jo, "Really? You were lying to me the whole damn night. I can't believe Paige played along. You must be a damn good lay. Paige is my best friend and she seems to keep all of your secrets."

"There you go with me and Paige again." Said Gabriel, smiling wickedly, "And do you generally find human men in dance clubs to be more honest than me?"

"You… shut up."

"Oh, very clever."

Jo reached over and grabbed a vase off the counter and lobbed it at Gabriel. The archangel diverted it easily with a snap of his fingers. It landed with a crash on the floor.

"You ought to be more careful. That was probably real crystal."

Jo stood there, seething.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Do you get off on this power trip?"

"Yes. Yes I do, actually. Are you surprised?" asked Gabriel, "Surely, you've heard by now that I have an alter ego as a trickster. I must admit, I do take pride in my work."

"Bobby told me about a trickster who was repeatedly fucking with the Winchesters."

"Ah, yes, that yours truly." Gabriel broke into a bloodthirsty grin that Jo hated him for, "Did he tell you about the time loop I created? Everyday Sam watched his brother die over and over. I admit, that one was particularly brilliant." Gabriel took a second to laugh to himself as he remembered it, "One time, Dean looked at Sam and said, 'If we decide that I'm not going to die, I'm not going to die,'" Gabriel paused for another moment as he tried to compose himself, slapping his thigh as his body was racked with silent gales of mirth "So I closed his windpipe over a bite of sausage!"

He roared with laughter as if he had just gotten to the punch line of a very good joke.

"Tell me again how you aren't evil?" Jo asked through gritted teeth.

"Oh, c'mon. Those two are practically balls deep into each other as it is." Said Gabriel, "When I first met them, I thought it would be fun to turn them against each other. No, no I was wrong. Much better to hold one over the other. Their worst fear isn't hating, it's living without the other."

"You're a monster."

"Yes. I am." Said Gabriel, "But I'm helping. You just don't know it yet."

"How is forcing a brother to watch the other die 'helping'? You killed Dean. You _killed_ him."

"Well, yeah." Said Gabriel with a shrug, "but he was never _really _dead. Dean Winchester was pulled out of Hell. By, not one, but an _army_ of my brothers and sisters. He's on angel watch. I couldn't really hurt him. I am, however, allowed to fuck with him."

"And Sam?"

"Angel watch as well. Trust me, until what is written comes to pass, those two are untouchable. "

"What is written?"

Gabriel pulled his lips into a grim line.

"You don't really expect me to answer that question."

"It has to do with both of them, together." Jo ventured. "One of them has to live without the other, don't they?"

"Yes. One has to kill the other." Said Gabriel. Jo noted that he was looking out the window as he said it, his voice soft. "They are echoes of a war long overdue, proxies of two brothers who loved and betrayed the other. I forced Sam to know it, to fear it… because it has to be Dean. Dean has to win. He just has to. Every angel in the cosmos is going to see to it that he does. Sam… Sam has to let him win."

"So you showed Sam what life would be like without Dean, so that when it came down to it, he wouldn't be able to do it. You made it a little harder for Sam to kill Dean than for Dean to kill Sam."

"Self sacrifice seems to be the Winchester way."

"You can make it stop, I know you can."

Gabriel looked defeated.

"Don't you think I wish that I could? Don't you think I _would_ if I could? I can bend the parameters, at best. I can stack the deck, lean the table, but I can't stop it. No one can." He took a deep breath and Jo heard his breath catch. "I just want it to be over, Jo. I'm so tired. I want it to be over."

He looked so sad and small, sitting on the king size bed of the hotel. Jo knew that his vessel, small and lean as it was, was the tip of the iceberg when it came to his power. Yet, for some reason, knowing that his power was all but infinite and seeing him look so beaten down terrified Jo more than anything else.

Despite herself, seeing him look weak, that dickish smile finally wiped off his face, Jo realized how Paige could like him. Leave it to Paige to find and love the broken angel.

"You stacked the deck. That's what you were doing with Sam." Jo scooted closer to him on the bed, "That's what you're doing with Paige."

Gabriel paused, then nodded.

"If it is written that a man must kill his brother or let his brother kill him, I can give him memories of his worst nightmare… If it was written that a girl must a man," said Gabriel, "I could not save the man's life, but I could arrange circumstances so that he was a monster. A poor excuse of human space and life. A man who didn't deserve to live. The girl would have to kill, but I could make it so that it was hardly an _innocent _life that she snuffed out."

Jo placed her hand over Gabriel's. She had never before thought about how _heavy _the weight of these destinies sat on his shoulders. Fates of two brothers who must kill their only remaining blood. An innocent girl who had to get blood on her hands. Blood, blood everywhere and without even trying, Gabriel was drenched in it.

No, he wasn't clean cut. The angel was like razor wire around the edges. Cruel, deceptive, violent… but he was also loyal. Loyal to a prophecy that he swore was no longer his own. He was loyal to Paige. He had been loyal to Jo.

"Oh, Gabriel." Said Jo softly.

"Don't you dare pity me." He snapped at her.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Said Jo. "And me? What is written for me?"

"Nothing." Said the archangel, looking over Jo with an amused and almost tender expression. "You are completely unexpected."

* * *

Bobby, once again, resisted his urge to roll over.

Next to him, in the kind of crappy motel bed that had become standard, Ellen lay sleeping. The woman was the lightest sleeper he had ever known and him tossing and turning was sure to wake her.

Maybe it was a hunter thing; they were all light sleepers. It was just damn near impossible to stare down the face of a succubus and then, later that night, fall into a long restful sleep.

It wasn't so much that he has physically uncomfortable. Ellen, thankfully, wasn't much of a cuddler when she slept. She was affectionate after sex and she was sweet when they were alone together, but when it came to sleeping, she politely stayed on her side of the bed, a tell tale sign of her former marriage.

Along his travels, Bobby had been with a few women. Probably less than his hunting friends, actually, as he considered John Winchester, he had definitely been with fewer women. But there had been women, sleeping where Ellen was sleeping, in his past.

And the first thing he learned after awhile was that only women who had never been married tried to cuddle while they slept. Nestling themselves against his body, dooming his back to hurt and the arm that they curled into to lose circulation throughout the night.

They were insecure. Married women had learned to sleep with a partner. They knew about sore arms and backs and they weren't afraid that their bedmate wouldn't be there in the morning. Ellen had been married. He had been married. A widower and a widow who both fell easily into their roles. This was no one's first rodeo.

But, the fact that the routine was familiar didn't make it less special. Bobby loved that woman, no doubt about it. He loved that she was quiet and pensive, yet didn't tolerate a lick of his bullshit. He loved that she cooked. She didn't cook like Karen had cooked, all sweets and baked goods, humming to herself as she went.

If anything, that made Bobby love Ellen more.

Ellen cooked meaty and fatty and savory. She cooked like a mad scientist, throwing whatever ingredients struck her fancy in, and the woman would kiss a vampire before she ever was caught dead humming.

She wasn't sweet like Karen had been, but then, Bobby wasn't the kind of person that would be married to her anymore. The fact was, that if he met Karen for the first time tomorrow, it wouldn't even cross his mind to love her. He had turned into the kind of awful, cold, grumpy dick that Karen couldn't stand. And Karen had been the sort of bright eyed optimist that Bobby could no longer relate to.

He had Ellen.

And every night that he woke up and saw her next to him was like a miracle. He was sure that he was living in some sort of dream world where he would certainly wake up, then have to go about his business as if it didn't really matter to him.

Pretend that he was happy to rot alone and crabby with a bunch of books and scotch until a demon or alcoholic coma claimed him. But Ellen was… there. And she smiled when she saw him. And she kissed him and made love to him and listened to him bitch. And he listened to her bitch. And for the first time in a long time, Bobby wasn't lonely.

"You gonna tell me what's on your mind or do I get to listen to you huff and puff for the rest of my life?"

Bobby turned to see Ellen, laying on her side, her cool eyes looking at him. Despite her flippant tone, there was a trace of affection there. Though, Bobby knew if he pointed it out, there would be a damn good possibility that it would be the last thing he did.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"No good apologizing. I'm awake already." She squeezed his hand under the covers of the bed. "Tell me what's keeping you up, then we can both catch some sleep."

"Just… memories."

"Well, old bastard like you is bound to have a million of them. Anything in particular?"

"You know Jo and Paige have been going to Rufus for help?"

"Yeah. He called me the first time she went to him. He's still bouncin' in and out of retirement. Got a new recruit. Likes him a whole lot. Everyone calls him Zapata. Sounds like a good kid. Good for Rufus. Good for Paige."

Bobby scratched his chin and shifted his weight freely now that he was no longer afraid of waking her. Ellen watched him shift uncomfortably under her falcon gaze.

"Rufus. Is that what this is about? Robert Eugene Singer, I oughta slap you. That was more than ten years ago. I ain't no nun. Last I checked you sure as hell weren't a monk. If we're gonna sit around and get all tangled up in shit that we did way back in 1993, then we're not gonna have time to live our lives, are we? We got demons, ghosts and angels on our plate. No time for our little Days of our Lives pity party, got it?"

"You think I'm still hung up on that?" asked Bobby. As the words left his mouth, he realized their falsity. Yes, he admitted to himself for the first time. Yes, he was still hung up on that.

"You better not be." Ellen said. Her voice softened as she continued, "I ain't perfect, Bobby. Not by a long shot. It was long before 'us' was even on the table. But I'm here, now, Bobby. I ain't goin nowhere without a fight."

Ellen leaned up and kissed him, running her finger along his beard and then up behind his ear, tracing her fingernails along the back of his neck. Placing another kiss against his lips, she settled back onto her side of the bed and rolled over, giving him some privacy as he sorted out the feelings that they both pretended he didn't have.

"I love you, you drunken old bastard." Ellen said into the dark. She said it warmly and Bobby felt it down in his gut. Bobby Singer loved Ellen Harvelle. If anything in this world was certain, it was that.

"I love you too, you bossy woman." He said to her.

* * *

_Omaha, Nebraska. 1993. _

Bobby Singer sat at the bar, nursing his whiskey on the rocks. His finger tracing along the rim of the glass.

Next to him sat Rufus Turner making a distasteful look at the cheap scotch in his hand, the only option available to him at the bar in the one horse town just outside of the capital.

"I wish we could have stayed in the city a little longer." He said wistfully, "This shouldn't even be labeled as scotch. I could make a better batch in my basement with my eyes closed than this."

Bobby looked at Rufus out of the corner of his eye.

It had been a bad hunt. A damn bad hunt. That was why they were at a bar in middle-of-nowhere Nebraska instead of the capital.

They got the bastard alright. A particularly vengeful ghost with a penchance for women in their thirties. And Rufus had gotten to know one woman particularly well. Biblically well, if Bobby had to guess.

Lauren Wells was an accountant at the bank where the ghost was haunting. She had a good head on her shoulders and a wry sense of humor. She was the one who let them into the bank after hours. She was the one that had lured the ghost into the hunters' trap.

She was the body they'd had to bury in the woods.

Rufus sipped his scotch again before putting on the counter with a thud.

"I can't drink this." He said finally, gesturing to the bartender for a beer.

Bobby was more than a little worried about his friend. Rufus was hardly one to sit around and talk about his feelings, but a woman that he had been intimate with, that he had _liked_ had all but died in his arms.

They had buried her body in a ditch in the woods and Rufus was sitting at the bar, pretending that it was just a normal hunt. Bobby wasn't going to be the one to say anything, but, try as he might, he couldn't keep from giving Rufus nervous looks.

"Hey." Said Ellen, coming up behind the men. She lightly rubbed Rufus' shoulder, but that was the only indication that things were different. She, like Bobby, was going to let Rufus deal with it in his own way. Even if that way made both of them positive that he was going to snap in two.

Somehow, him sitting calmly and talking about scotch terrified them both more than if he had been curled up in a fetal position or punching holes into walls.

"How's Jo?" asked Bobby. Ellen had just gotten back from the payphone in the back, calling to check up on her daughter. "Well, Father Jim says she's smart mouthin, temper tantrum throwin, bossy, defiant and absolutely refusing to go to bed. Which means that she's normal."

"That's my girl." Rufus said affectionately.

"I think it makes him miss the Winchester boys." Ellen said. She reached in front of Bobby and took the beer that he had just started working on. She took a long pull before putting it back in front of him. Her eyes caught on the jukebox in the corner and she walked over to inspect it.

"Just go ask her to dance." Rufus said after a minute. He had watched Bobby's eyes follow Ellen across the bar, lingering a little too long to be appropriate on her hips.

"What? Why?"

"Cause the woman likes to move. Cause you are all but drooling over her all the damn time. Don't sit there and pretend that you don't. I ain't dumb and I ain't blind."

"I can't do that." Said Bobby, not bothering to protest Rufus' assumption. Rufus had seen every shade of Bobby. After his wife had died. After his first hunt. Bad hunts. Good hunts. Drunk. Sober. Rufus had seen it all.

"Cause you can't dance? Ellen knows you can't dance. You can't embarrass yourself in front of her tonight more than you have since we've known her."

"Bill is barely cold in the ground."

"Bill died _three years_ ago. Maybe she ain't ready for another marriage, but she could probably use some company tonight."

"It ain't like that."

"What's it like then?"

Bobby was silent as he took a drink of his beer. The bottle was significantly lighter after Ellen had stolen her share.

"Oh. You poor son of a bitch. It's like _that._"

"Look. I'm just sayin… Ellen is special. I'm not lookin for tonight. I'm lookin for…"

"Jesus, Bobby." Said Rufus, shaking his head.

Growing bored of the jukebox, Ellen made her way back to her hunting companions.

"Hey, fellas. I'm going to bed. This bar ain't fun and I want to hit the road early and get back to my girl tomorrow anyways."

The men said goodnight and Ellen left to walk back to the motel across the street. Bobby and Rufus stayed a little longer, but the weight of the bad hunt was too much for them to try and make polite conversation. They were two tired men, drinking in silence.

* * *

Rufus walked as quiet as he could back to his room. It was still early, but after Bobby had gone to his own room, Rufus got bored.

It was one thing to drink alone with another poor bastard drinking alone. But being alone alone made him think of Lauren. And that was, frankly, unacceptable.

"Hey." Said a raspy voice. Rufus looked down a little to see Ellen poking her head out of the motel room door. Her hair was a little mussed from the pillow, but her eyes were open and alert.

"What are you doing awake?"

Ellen looked at him like he had just asked the dumbest question in the world. She was waiting to hear him come back. She was waiting to make sure that he was OK.

"How are you?" she asked. She didn't need to specify what she was talking about.

Rufus shrugged.

"Get in here." Said Ellen, kindly. "You don't have to say that you're good. You don't even have to say you're OK. You can say you're fucked up. You can say you're shit. I won't hold it against you unless you bottle it up and end up doing something stupid."

Rufus stepped into her room. She shut the door behind him quietly.

As soon as he heard the door latch, he grabbed her into his arms and threw her onto the bed, following her velocity so that he was pinned over her.

Her eyes and mouth here opened on a silent 'oh' of surprise.

But her knees parted slightly to accommodate him. She shifted under him. She wasn't pushing him off or protesting his weight. She was just getting more comfortable.

After a beat, to make sure that she wasn't going to hit him, Rufus slipped his lips over her mouth. He held there a moment, before decidedly moving his lips against hers, pulling them.

Ellen parted her lips and Rufus explored her mouth, her hot breath tasting like her minty toothpaste while his reeked of alcohol.

"Rufus" she said when he came up for air. "What are you doing?"

"Something stupid." He said, and then he crushed his lips down over hers again, his hands moving south to feel her body, soft and compliant under his touches. His fingers found the waist of her sweat pants and he eased them off her hips.

He looked into Ellen's eyes for any trace of hesitation. Instead he found… sorrow. Sadness and resolve and maybe, if he looked hard enough, a little bit of lust.

That was the last time Rufus looked into her eyes as he touched her, held her, teased her body beneath his that night.

She was pity fucking him and he didn't care. He didn't care at all.

Ellen finally began to return his touches, though hers were soft.

They were the fingers of an old friend, kind and understanding. Trying to wipe away the sadness and the guilt that she saw on him, even if he tried his damndest to act like it didn't affect him.

And Rufus melted into her. He entered her warmth like he was looking for forgiveness and Ellen was throwing it at him with both hands. She held his shoulders as he racked her body desperately, as if sheer fucking alone could erase the memory of Lauren. Of her body, cold and in the dirt. Buried without ceremony by the group of hunters who carelessly let her get killed.

She had been loved. She'd had a family and the woman deserved a damn funeral with flowers and eulogies and shit. But they couldn't leave her body, it would have been a crime scene with their DNA all over it. So she had the funeral of a crack whore, disposed efficiently and heartlessly. Then they moved on.

Rufus was rougher than he should have been to his friend. He was greedy and he came quickly. Ellen hadn't even been close, but she didn't mind. He collapsed on top of her, exhausted by the weight of his own body and guilt.

She kissed his sweaty neck, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

And he fell asleep. Something he was sure could never happen that night, the memories of Lauren sitting on his mind, refusing to let him be.

He was still in Ellen's room when Bobby knocked early in the morning. He was still half naked in her bed as she answered the door.

And Bobby Singer looked at him as if he had never seen him before in his life.

That expression of betrayal, hatred, heartbreak and anger was the last expression he saw on his best friend's face before Bobby shut the door and walked away. Driving off without even saying goodbye, the hurt in his eyes was farewell enough for both of them.


	30. Chapter 30: An Unkindness of Angels

The sun was peeking through the windows and Paige was lying awake and alone and her and Jo's bed. She bit her lip as she wondered exactly what she would tell Ellen when she knocked on their door in a couple of hours.

As tolerant as Ellen was about Jo's vibrant sexuality, Paige wasn't quite sure how to phrase the fact that she was probably banging an archangel. She remembered what Gabriel had told her about being intimate with (or in his ever eloquent speech, "fucking") an angel. The intoxicating warmth and comfort provided by the sheer vicinity to his Grace would be magnified a hundredfold.

At least Gabriel could make Jo feel good. Feel good in a way that Paige would never be able to offer her.

No. Paige shook the thought from her mind. It wasn't any of her business who made Jo feel what. This twisted feeling in her gut was because of Jakab. Because she knew and liked Jakab so she didn't exactly enjoy watching Gabriel get all up close and human with someone else.

Yes. That had to be it.

Paige heard the floor creak at the foot of the bed and she sat upright just in time to see the archangel and Jo appear in her room. She held a finger to her lips before either had time to greet her, pointing to the thin wall they shared with Bobby and Ellen.

Jo grinned and quietly but still exuberantly clambered into their bed and wrapped her arms around her best friend. Even after a night with, supposedly no sleep, Jo was bouncing with her trademark energy.

Gabriel remained standing, but his eyes narrowed at Paige.

"What did you do last night?" he asked her. The normal volume of his voice told Paige that he had used his powers to muffle the noise from their room to Bobby and Ellen.

"Watched you two dry hump for a few minutes then got bored and went home." Said Paige. She wanted to ask what had happened between them, looking from Jo to Gabriel. Jo definitely seemed to be more at peace with him. At the very least she wasn't snapping or sneering at him anymore. It was an improvement, Paige reminded herself, hoping that those words would at least be able to quash the twisted feeling she got when she remembered them together.

"You smell like sex." He said, bluntly.

"What?!" asked Jo. She looked her friend over, trying to see what Gabriel saw. Paige had showered as soon as she got in the room, so she knew that only his invasive angel senses could see the evidence of her storeroom romp.

Paige straightened up. She wasn't about to sit there and feel ashamed of herself when Gabriel and Jo had been dancing like that and then gone all night.

"Fine. Not that it's any of your business, but I hooked up with the bartender last night."

Gabriel's expression remained stony. Paige didn't look over at Jo who was being uncharacteristically quiet.

"Did you use a condom?" he asked.

"Excuse you?"

"Did. You. Use. A. Fucking. Rubber?" he spat out.

"This is really none of your—" but Paige was cut off as Gabriel stepped forward and shoved her back against the bed. Jo yelled in shock, as the angel moved so quickly.

Gabriel shoved one hand into Paige's chest, holding her still as the other slid under her shirt, pausing over her lower stomach.

"Stop it!" yelled Jo, shoving uselessly at him. "Leave her alone! Get off her!"

Gabriel didn't even acknowledge her cries. Paige felt like she was being pinned beneath a rock under Gabriel's hand. The hand over her stomach, however, was spreading an icy cold across her skin. Paige sputtered at the shock and pain of it.

There was a crash as Jo smashed the motel lamp into his back.

Gabriel didn't seem fazed by the force. He looked over his shoulder at Jo as if he was mildly surprised to find her there, shaking and bracing herself for a fight.

"Next time," said Gabriel, looking at Paige who was still lying out on the bed where he had pinned her, "Use protection."

With that, he disappeared.

"Are you OK?" asked Jo, stepping forwards. She was still shaken from Gabriel's outburst.

Paige had always known that when push came to shove, Gabriel would have her pinned, down and out, every single time. He was too much everything. Too much power, too much temper, too much wrath.

Paige's hand lingered over to her lower stomach. She realized that her eyes had watered from the pain of the impossibly burning cold. The cold touch that matched the look in Gabriel's eye as he held her down.

"I think so." She said, though her voice was weak and raspy.

"Oh, God." Said Jo, her eyes were between Paige's legs. She looped her arm around Paige and helped her up and into the bathroom. As Paige glanced behind her, onto the bed, she saw a huge spot of blood on the sheets.

Gabriel had jump-started her period.

* * *

An hour later, Paige was slumped in the motel room chair, half drowsing half watching Jo as she packed their room. Jo was being unusually quiet and purposeful as she gathered their belongings.

Usually it was Paige who packed up. Jo hated folding and sorting, happy to shove whatever clothes were close into whatever bag happened to be in her hand at the time. However, as often as they shared each other's clothes, Paige had learned the importance of folding and sorting the hard way. The fact was, that with as much time as their things spent in suitcases, if things weren't folded and religiously kept from even a single dirty item, they would smell stale and old.

Jo wandered over to the dress that Paige had borrowed the night before, running the white satiny fabric beneath her fingers.

"I'll get that dry-cleaned for you." Paige said.

Jo licked her lips with an unreadable expression on her face as she held the dress up to the light. She sniffed it and Paige knew that she could smell the sex and the bar and Paige on it.

"Are you mad at me too?" asked Paige quietly, watching Jo drop the dress into a plastic bag with some of the other dirty clothes.

"Not really." Said Jo, "I mean, that's kind of dumb. Who doesn't use a condom now a days? Especially in a one night stand with a bartender."

"He wasn't like that." Said Paige, defensively. "And, I guess I just don't do this sort of thing very often, OK? I think I've been punished enough, thanks."

Jo didn't rise to Paige's tone. Yet another uncharacteristic silence from her friend.

"What's up with you and Gabriel?" asked Paige. "Did you guys hook up last night?"

"No. Of course not." Said Jo, "I could never do that to you. Even if you guys have an open relationship or whatever—"

"Wait, what?"

"Look, you can fuck whoever or whatever you want."

"You think I'm fucking Gabriel?"

"I'm not judging—"

"Jo, I'm not touching that archangel's naughty business with a ten foot pole."

"He told me, Paige."

"What?"

"Well, OK. So, he kind of toed around it. He says that he's bound to you and then he says all this stuff about being sentimental or whatever about people he's been with… I just put two and two together."

Paige was quiet as Jo continued packing. Suddenly, Jo froze.

"Seattle." She said, realization dawning on her..

"Yeah." Mumbled Paige.

"I kissed you in Seattle." Said Jo. She hesitated before she continued, "Gabriel was in Seattle."

Paige played with the fabric of the chair beneath her fingernails as Jo's gaze turned to her.

"Paige, what did Gabriel and I do?"

"He said you were still a virgin." Paige said, hoping that that would reassure Jo somehow. When Jo's face turned pale, Paige quickly corrected herself. "I mean, he can tell just by looking, it doesn't mean that…" Paige tapered off.

"What the hell was I under?" asked Jo, shaking her head. "I mean, you is one thing… but him…"

"It wasn't you." Paige assured her, "It was that spell you were under. He did save you. He saved both of us. He just also…"

"Is he even capable of being an entirely nice guy?" Jo asked, bitterly.

"With Gabriel, you just kind of have to take the bad with the good."

"You still like him?" asked Jo, incredulously, looking at the way that Paige's hand hovered over her lower stomach where Gabriel had forced her cycle. Paige shrugged and gave a small smile.

"He is helping. I mean, I should have used protection. I should have. Now I won't get pregnant. If I had an STD, he healed it. He's rough, and sharp, and painful, but he's my friend, Jo."

"I never want to see him again." She said, "I never want to see any angel ever again."

"I guess he told you about the apocalypse." Paige said, sensing more to Jo's angel aversion than Gabriel's hot and cold act. Jo nodded.

"Yeah. He can stop it, but is he going to? Of course not."

"It hurts him."

"Not as much as it should."

"Jo—"

"Fuck him. I'm stopping the apocalypse. I'll do it all by myself if I have to."

"Jo, you don't have to."

"Of course I have to fucking stop the apocalypse. Are you crazy? I'm a hunter. This is what I was born to do. If a hunter isn't supposed to stop the end of the world, what the fuck _are_ we supposed to do?" Jo stopped as she saw Paige's smile." Did he scramble your brain too? What is funny?"

"Jo… I meant that you don't have to stop the apocalypse _alone._"

Paige held out her pinky to her friend.

"But Gabriel…"

"Isn't the boss of me. I'm a hunter and your partner first. Just because Gabriel is going to sit with his thumb up his ass as the world burns doesn't mean that I have to. It doesn't mean that _we_ have to."

Jo ran forward and wrapped her arms around Paige, and Paige wrapped her arms around Jo. They became a weird, awkward, two backed and limby creature as they embraced, but neither wanted to be the first to break from it.

"Fuck prophecy. Let's make this whole world live, just to spite those feathered assholes." Said Paige.

Jo laughed and it was the most comforting and exciting sound that Paige had ever heard.

Despite the world crashing down around them, some things in this world were constant. Joanna Beth Harvelle, standing beside Paige, through thick and thin, would never, ever change.

* * *

When the three women arrived in Fallon, Nevada, Paige tried her best to not look like she had enjoyed the ride in the Jeep as much as she actually had.

When the four hunters met in the morning, Bobby revealed that he had gotten a call from Dean about Sam and he needed to get back to South Dakota. He took Paige's Cadillac back to Sioux Falls, while Ellen, Paige and Jo went in her Jeep to the next hunt.

Jo, sitting up front with her mother, was still peeved about losing the Cadillac. Paige however, was finding it hard to miss the old thing.

What the Cadillac had in style and character it lacked in air conditioning and comfort. Paige enjoyed spreading out in the back seat of the Jeep, her notes and books in front of her. And she certainly wouldn't miss the multiple tune-ups and hours she had spent, laboring over her old car, keeping it running.

The fact was, the Cadillac had served her in a pinch. She needed a ride and the Caddy had caught her eye. Now that she was a little older and more accustomed to the lifestyle of hunting, the fact that she didn't have to worry about the car was a load off her mind. She had never loved the thing like Jo had.

The hot air hit them like a gust from an oven as they stepped out of the car towards the motel.

Ellen disappeared into her own room as Paige and Jo got settled in their own.

"You doing OK?" asked Jo as Paige winced, bending down to pick up her bag. Jo sighed as Paige's grimace answered her question. "I can't believe he did that to you." She grumbled grabbing Paige's bag from the floor.

Paige chose not to answer her as Jo was already in a confrontational mood from losing the argument about the car. Paige wasn't about to get her going on this one.

Ellen knocked on their door a few minutes later, already dressed in her pantsuit.

One of the immense benefits of hunting with Ellen was that her age afforded her a lot more authority in her undercover gigs than Paige or Jo could get on their own. But even without her age, Ellen had the aura of a woman who was not to be taken lightly.

Paige couldn't help but wonder if Jo took after her father or if she would one day grow into the strong, cool woman before them. Jo was fiery and opinionated. She was like a force of nature that went quickly, destroying everything in it's path. Ellen was a mountain calm, yet unyielding.

Paige definitely saw snippets of Ellen in Jo. Both were obstinate, both were beautiful, both were smart.

Paige was more reserved than Jo, so it often appeared as though she was the smarter of the two, but Paige didn't believe it for a minute. Jo was rash, and hasty and loud, but dumb was never a word that could define her.

"You girls about ready?" asked Ellen.

"Paige isn't coming." Jo yelled from the bathroom, where she was straightening her hair. Ellen looked down at Paige, who was just as surprised as she was at the news.

"Paige is dressed and ready to go. Does she know she isn't going?"

"You're sick, Paige." Said Jo.

"I'm fine," Paige said to Ellen, who was looking at her with a new concern. "I really don't know what she's talking about."

Ellen squatted down to Paige's level, where she was sitting in the chair. She put her hand on Paige's forehead, feeling her temperature. Paige tried to suppress the well of heartbreaking familiarity at the maternal gesture.

"You're awful pale." Ellen said slowly.

"She's got… a stomach ache." Jo supplied.

"It's just a lady time of month." Paige said, "Really, I'm a professional. It's fine."

"You look pretty tired." Ellen continued.

"Mom, let's just go without her." Jo said, ignoring Paige's affronted look.

"Honey, you rest now." Said Ellen, "Two hunters is plenty for this recon. You'll be on research duty. I'm accustomed to Bobby, so you got big shoes to fill."

"Paige is brilliant at research," said Jo, "You won't even miss ol' Bobby."

They were patronizing her, and it was driving her a bit crazy, but as Paige thought about standing and doing an undercover gig, she suddenly felt impossibly exhausted.

"Ok." She relented. "I'll man the fort."

"Good girl." Said Ellen from the doorway as Jo locked pinkies with Paige. " Let's go, Jo Beth."

* * *

Paige was sprawled out on the bed, flipping through channels and positive that she would die of boredom when Jo called her.

"Vampires!" she said, sounding far too excited.

"There a nest here?" asked Paige.

"I think so. Weird place for it, huh? It's so bright and sunny. Maybe that's what makes it a perfect hiding spot. So, we got two ensanguined victims, both females, about 25 and about two weeks ago a guy around the same age disappeared. So, get this, one girl was the guy's girlfriend, another was his coworker."

"Ensanguined would point to vampire." Paige admitted. She was getting a very bad feeling about this case.

"So, we've gotten a few details about the nest. You think you could look them up and see what the deal is? New nest? New vampire? Both?"

"Sure." Said Paige as she wrote down the details.

After she and Jo hung up, Paige paused for a minute before she made up her mind and dialed the next number.

"Yup?"

"David?"

"Oh, Paige." Her name came through the phone like a breath of relief. She could imagine Zapata, relaxing his shoulders as he held the phone to his ear. She had a lot of fondness for the hunter, she'd give him that.

"I probably shouldn't be calling you."

"Then why are you?"

Paige paused for a minute. It was a good question.

"We're in Nevada. A town called Fallon. We've… we've found a vampire nest."

"Oh." Zapata's entire tone changed.

"I'm… going to read you some of the details we know about the nest… you can decide if it's… you know."

"Ok."

"Six vamps, we think one of them is new. Two mated pairs. The thing is… that there aren't any deaths besides two associated with the guy who went missing. To me that… to me that says that whoever turned him didn't teach him how to hunt properly. Like… maybe they didn't expect him to try to kill or turn anyone…"

"What are you guys going to do?"

"It's Jo and her mother… I'm out this hunt. Look, Zapata, I can't stop them. I just can't. I might be able to slow them down, but they're hunters. You can't expect them to walk away from a nest."

"Are you OK?" he asked, a little concern in his voice.

"I'll survive. But, look, Zapata, if this is your… then you need to get down here yesterday."

There was hesitation on the other end of the line.

"What is your gut on this one?" he asked her. He sounded so unsure that it broke Paige's heart.

"I think you need to get down here."

"Fallon, Nevada?" he repeated, Paige heard the clicking of laptop keys in the background.

"Yes. And no one can ever know that I called you. Ever. If you come to town, you need to… take care of this and then leave. I'm already in hot water with Jo. She found out about Loki and she won't tolerate me letting another monster slip through the cracks. I'm not really sure that I can tolerate me letting another monster slip through the cracks but… I couldn't not tell you."

"Thanks, Paige."

"Be careful, David."

Paige hung up the phone and then stared at it in her hand for a few minutes. She still couldn't shake the feeling that she had just made a mistake.

She and Zapata were… complicated, but he deserved to know that his dead ex lover was about to be flushed out of her nest. Even if she had been indirectly responsible for killing two innocent victims.

He needed to know. Right?

Paige wasn't sure. She laid back against the bed, her hand over her cramping abdomen. It was done; dwelling on it would help matters.

"That's was a nice thing you did."

Paige jumped up, her hand instinctively covering the part of her that Gabriel had hurt the last time he was there. Gabriel scratched the back of his neck as he saw Paige's reaction to his appearance.

"I came to apologize." He said.

"A little late," said Paige sourly, "I'm afraid you poisoned the well with Jo. She never wants to see you again."

"That's understandable."

"I don't really know why I want to see you again." Paige said, scooting so that her back was propped against the head of the bed.

"Because we're friends." He said, leaning forward and placing his hand over her stomach again, filling her aching muscles with warmth, like sinking into a hot bath.

"You were listening." Paige said, unsurprised, as she recognized her own words from earlier in the day.

"Guilty."

"You really care about Jo, don't you?"

Gabriel sighed, straightening up as he did so. Gabriel didn't like admitting that he cared about anyone. But Paige had seen him with Jakab. Tender and caring. She saw through his cold, sharp exterior. She saw… him.

"You weren't letting her know about your existence and healing her and saving her just for me, were you? You _like _her like her."

"Not as much as you do."

"Gabriel, the joke is getting old."

"So is your denial."

Paige rolled her eyes, tired. She had stayed awake all night, waiting for Jo and Gabriel to get back and then she spent the day in too much discomfort to sleep. Now, the past eighteen or so hours was really getting to her. Gabriel sat next to her on the bed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Gabriel?"

"Gummy bear?"

"I know that you are helping," said Paige, rubbing her stomach where he had touched her that morning, "but could you maybe find a less scary and painful way to help?"

"Could you, maybe not try to be such a slut?"

"Hey…"

"C'mon. Seriously? It's 2009. Get your shit together."

"Please don't go all after school special on me."

"You have to be careful."

"Yes, yes, unprotected sex is dangerous."

"No, _you _have to be careful."

Paige sat up.

"Is it a prophecy thing?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what it is?"

"No."

"Gabriel…"

"Look, it's a paradox. Once you _know _the prophecy, it can't be the prophecy anymore."

"Is it a bad prophecy?"

"You have to take the bad with the good." Said Gabriel, "There is good, though. I promise on everything on this earth and in heaven that there is good in your prophecy."

"The good with the bad. Just like you."

Gabriel grinned and rubbed his hand up and down her shoulder. It was friendly and comforting and being so close to her friend, the angel, made Paige absolutely certain that there was good in the world. She felt warm and safe.

"Sleep it off, gummy bear." Said Gabriel, touching her temple with the hand that was wrapped around her.

And Paige fell into a soft, warm and blissful sleep.


	31. Chapter 31: Paradise Lost

**I really want to thank everyone who sent me private message reviews on Friday! Not only did people review (which I love) but they were not discouraged by the site's weirdness that day! Extra thanks to Maddy love Castiel for leaving me a private message review _and _a public review a few days later! **

**So, super short chapter today. ZAPATA! So much fun writing his character in this piece. So, sorry about the sketchy updates. I aim to update once a week, but I write when I feel like it and usually update as soon as possible. Currently I'm working full time with school full time (adulthood. fun.) so I don't always get a whole day of the week off. If you're following any of my other two stories as well, I'm sorry!**

**Anyways, enjoy this little tidbit. I'll update asap!**

* * *

David Zapata's hands shook as he drove his rental car from the airport into the heart of the Nevada Mountains. He glanced over at his phone again, wishing that Paige would call him one more time.

Not in the least because hearing her voice made his stomach fill with warm butterflies. The fact was that he didn't know where to start looking for Lenore and her nest.

She was cautious. After a bad run in with a hunter after himself, Lenore's once full nest had been pruned down to a handful. And not everyone in that handful was really on board with the 'not eating humans' thing. Lenore was old. Older than most vampires, even. She had lived so long because she was painfully careful. Her age and vigilance earned her some respect from other vampires, even if her dietary choices raised eyebrows.

Of course, Lenore didn't have a cell phone. As much as she talked the talk and walked the walk, she was still a decade or so behind on technology. Frankly, she didn't much care, but at moments like this, it was infuriating.

Once Zapata saw the sign telling him that he was entering Fallon, he pulled over.

It was a long shot, but there was a chance that Lenore would be able to smell him from wherever she was. Right now, it was his only hope.

Stepping out of his rental car and walking into the woods, he stood still and silent for a few minutes. When nothing happened, Zapata took a deep breath, steeling himself. 1. It was going to hurt. 2. Lenore was going to be pissed.

He slid his knife from his belt and, in a quick motion, sliced his forearm open, being sure to cut deep enough to stall his body's natural blood congeleant. There needed to be a lot of blood and he needed to wait long enough for Lenore to smell it.

He felt especially ridiculous as he stood with his bloody arm outstretched.

"David."

Zapata smiled. These days, only his lovers called him 'David.'

"I was afraid I wouldn't find you in time." He said, smiling into the darkness, in the general direction he heard her voice from. He knew that his eyes had no hope of actually finding her if she didn't want to be seen. Darkness was her element. If she hadn't mastered it, she would have died centuries ago.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, sounding less than thrilled.

"Good to see you too."

"Cover that up." She said, ignoring his sarcasm.

The strained note in her voice went straight south. He remembered it, whispered in his ear as he was in her. A big, soft mountain of a woman, her thighs around him, her fingers down his spine, her lips dangerously close to his neck. '_I want you._' She had murmured, so close to the edge. Had it been a normal woman, Zapata would have dismissed it as a sweet nothing. But she wasn't a normal. Even in her life, Zapata doubted that Lenore had ever been close to normal. She had wanted his blood, his life. She wanted to sink her teeth into him and taste him all over.

It made him doubt his sanity and his qualifications as a hunter as the thought turned him on even more. He'd _wanted _her to bite him.

"Right, sorry." Said Zapata hastily, wrapping his arm in an old shirt. He turned back into the darkness, a little disappointed that Lenore was still hiding, wherever she was, "I can't see you."

"Yes, that's the point."

"Lenore…"

"Why are you here?"

Realization dawned on him.

"You don't trust me. You think I'm going to try and hurt you?"

"Yes."

"How could you possibly think that?"

"Well, David. I catch the smell of two hunters, snooping around my nest and then find you in town as well. What am I supposed to think?"

"I… know one of the hunters and she knows about us. When she suspected that it was you and your kin, she called me. I got here as soon as I could."

"What for?" asked Lenore, with a cold snort, "What can you possibly do? If your little hunter friends found out that you and I made love and then you stuck your neck out to protect me, you'd earn yourself a spot on the 'Hunter's Most Wanted' list as well."

"I told Paige." He said defensively.

"Yes. Bully for you. But I'm guessing that she's the only hunter you told, and with good reason. I don't blame you, " her voice softened, "If the roles were reversed, I wouldn't tell anyone either."

"People have died, Lenore."

"I've taken care of it."

"You've taken care of it?" he asked incredulously, "You've taken _care _of it? Two young women are _dead,_ but that's ok, because you've taken care of it."

"Do not make the mistake of assuming that I take pleasure from killing my kin." Her voice was icy cold.

"So, you killed him, then. It was a new vampire, wasn't it?"

"Yes. His name was Daniel."

"And you turned him?"

"What do you think?" Lenore snapped. When Zapata didn't respond, she sighed. It was only a gesture of frustration and patience. She didn't need to breathe. "My nest mates, Lou and May, thought they were being helpful." Zapata must have looked confused as Lenore continued, "Vampires mate for life."

"I knew _that_" grumbled Zapata.

"Yes, I know that you knew that. But, you don't know how if feels to be a vampire without one."

"Don't _you_ make the mistake of thinking that I don't know how it feels to be lonely." Zapata said.

"I think it is different, worse, for us." She said, thoughtfully, "I don't remember much about being human. I remember being lonely. But I feel that it must be worse now. It's like a constant ache. A headache that never goes away. A heaviness that seems unbearable. I've learned to live with it. But my nest mates haven't given up."

"They turned Daniel so that he could be your boyfriend?"

"Something like that, yes." Zapata thought that he could hear her smile, "Unfortunately, it isn't that simple. We should have moved on the minute that they turned him, but he wanted to stay. He insisted that we stay."

"And you let him?"

"Vampires mate for life but… we don't have soul mates. We don't have love at first sight. It is just like courting. You get to know each other. You grow to love each other. This love at first sight is an invention of yours from the last century. You talk about it like it has always been there, but it's new. Your ideas of love are new. I didn't love Daniel. But…"

"You could have."

"Yes. I suppose. And a part of me wanted it to be that way. A part of me wanted Daniel to be mine. A part of me wanted him to like me." He voice tapered off a bit at the end of the statement. "That was foolish. I see that now. So I killed him."

Zapata and Lenore stood in silence for a few minutes.

"You and your nest need to leave. Paige is all right, but those hunters… they're hunters. They won't walk away."

"I understand."

"Hey, Lenore?"

"Yes, David?"

"Do you think that you could have ever grown to love me? Like, all vampire, mate for life kind of love?"

"What do you want me to say? I already do, David. But…. I have chosen to live my life without a mate because I could never do this to a person. I could never make them like me. The hunger. The life of hiding. It isn't worth anything. There is nothing glamorous about squatting in abandoned barns. In going weeks and weeks without food. The only people who think being a vampire is desirable are people who have never really thought about it."

"Lenore?"

"Yes, David?"

"Can you come out now?"

Zapata was a little surprised at how close she had been to him the entire time, once she moved the fraction of an inch that she needed to, he saw the moonlight reflect of her skin and saw that she stood in the shadow of a tree to his immediate left.

"You look good." He said, smiling his best panty-dropping smile.

"You look older."

"It's only been a couple of years." He said, stepping towards her. She stayed eerily still.

"They haven't been easy years."

"No, not really." He stood close enough to touch her, but he didn't. His days of reaching for girls simply because they were there and beautiful were behind him. After four years of being saturated with girl after girl, one night stand after one night stand, the game got dull. The kinds of girls who would climb into a stranger's bed were not the kind of girls he had much of an appetite for anymore.

He would take them when he needed them, of course. He was still a relatively young man who had animal urges, just like anyone else. He would still take some of those girls home. He would still try to find some reason to love them, even if just a little, even if just for that night.

Lenore was something strange and powerful and dangerous. He could love her. He could make love to her again, but it wouldn't fill the loneliness he had. There were only a few girls that he could think of to fit the bill.

"Who is Paige?" asked Lenore. Sometimes, Zapata wondered if she could read minds.

"What?"

"The hunter that you mentioned earlier. Paige? Is she yours?"

"No. She isn't."

"You want her to be."

"It doesn't matter." Said Zapata, "She is kind of like you, I guess. She doesn't want to take a partner or lover or husband or whatever you want to call it, living the way that she does. She's lost a lot of people."

"I'm sorry."

Zapata shrugged. He was sorry too. Sorry that Paige was so gun shy about love. Sorry that he couldn't be the kind of man that could change her mind.

"I'm sorry about Daniel." Said Zapata. Lenore smiled.

In an instant, her face fell. She was listening to something far away from her and Zapata, and it terrified her.

"What is it?" he asked.

Lenore looked frantically around her, as though someone might be spying. She pulled her arms over her stomach, protectively. Zapata watched in terror as she folded into herself.

"No." she murmured, dropping to her knees, "No. Nonononononono."

She leaned forward, as if in a trance, her hair falling into her face. Zapata dropped to her level.

"Talk to me. Lenore, talk to me. What's wrong? Is it your nest?" He reached out to touch her arm, braced against herself. The second his fingers made contact, he knew he had made a mistake.

Lenore's neck snapped straight, as if on a rubber band. The first thing Zapata saw were fangs. A thousand tiny little teeth had appeared and her jaw was held wide in a silent yell of hunger.

Only her eyes showed any trace of the Lenore that he knew.

"She is dead." She managed, with some difficulty, owing to her new set of fangs. "Lilith is dead."

"That's good," said Zapata hesitantly hopeful, "Ding dong the bitch is dead, right?"

"No," said Lenore, "It's bad. It's so, so very bad."

"Len—"

"He's risen." Said Lenore, unmistakable terror in her voice, "He's risen and he will bring the death of us all. "

Zapata backed away from her as she began to shake like an addict in withdrawal. He was immensely aware of the cut on his arm.

"Lucifer is risen." She said and before he knew it, she had vaulted over the ground, like a tiger pouncing on its prey.

Fangs connected with skin, and Zapata saw a glimpse of his own blood splattered against Lenore's beautiful snow white complexion before she shoved him onto his back and began to drink.

* * *

Paige woke up and blearily looked around the room. After a second, she registered that it was Gabriel, whom she been propped against, who woke her.

The archangel sat, at the edge of the bed, his face in his hands.

In an instant, Paige realized that something was very, very wrong.

She scooted closer to him, placing one hand on his shoulder.

"Gabriel?"

"It's started, Paige." He said. "Lilith was the last seal. Lucifer, my brother, walks the Earth again. "

Paige didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say.

"I won't let it happen, Gabriel." She said, "There won't be an apocalypse. I'll stop it. You don't have to watch your family turn on itself."

Gabriel let out a dry chuckle.

"What could you, little human, possibly do? We're talking angels and destiny and God, here. I can't stop it. What makes you think that you can?"

"The difference is that I'm not afraid of them. What's the worst that they can do to me? Kill me? But it's your family, Gabriel. That's why I'm going to stop it."

Gabriel turned his head and kissed Paige softly and quickly on the lips, a gesture of friendship from a time long past.

"Never in my existence has a human tried to protect me from pain." He said, smiling, "You're either very sweet or very, very stupid."

With that, he disappeared.


	32. Chapter 32: Paradise Lost II

**Ahhh, it's been so long since I've updated. I'm so sorry!**

**So, I hesitate even telling you guys this, but, eh, fuck it. **

**So, I always like to keep my character descriptions vague because 1) I can't think of anything more boring than reading descriptions. Honest to God, I hate it. and 2) It kind of kills it, I think. Whenever I read a charter, I sort of picture them as a mismatch of me or people I know or have seen. BUT this was just too weird. **

**So, when I conceptualized Zapata, I pictured him as Dante from General Hospital, played by Dominic Zamprogna (who is Italian, not Mexican, but hey, brown is brown.) But, get this, Zamprogna was actually IN an episode of Supernatural. Season 1, episode "Dead Man's Blood." Now, when you watch the episode (I know you're looking it up, right this minute) don't let his vampire character's deushy-ness kill the character Zapata for you. Look up Dante Falconari, in all his shaggy righteousness. THAT is David Zapata. **

**I just saw this yesterday, when I was watching SPN on Netflix. They just updated season 7, and SPN episodes are like Pringles. Once you pop, you can't friggen stop. So, I watched some of the older episodes and almost died when I recognized him, in his bit little part. AND he's playing a vampire. AND I had this vampire arc with Zapata's character. FUCKING CRAZY.**

**Actually, maybe it was subconscious. I've seen that episode a billion times (it has John in it!) and just noticed it now. I just usually get distracted since Jeffrey Dean Morgan is there. Being all gruff. And sexy. And bossy... and mmmmmmmmmm. Oh, wait sorry, I'm back.**

**Anyways, enjoy this chapter. YAY! EMOTIONS!**

* * *

The blood was slick as it ran down his neck. Lenore clutched him closer to her and he felt her hands smear his blood along his face and arms and chest, like a sloppy finger painting. He was wet and stained and the air reeked of the metallic scent of his blood.

And his hands were curled into fists in her hair as he pulled her even closer to him. His hips were jutting up against her as she lay on him, holding him down or holding them together didn't matter at the moment because he had never wanted something so badly in his life the way he wanted what she was doing to him now.

Both were still fully clothed and Lenore was only holding him in the most efficient possible fashion, keeping him still, not trying to get him off. Yet it was the most erotic experience of his entire life. He was being lifted, her pulls against his neck as she drank seemed to tug deliciously from his lower stomach in a familiar and animalistic way. Needing in a blurry haze of hormones and nerves and urgency.

"Lenore," he murmured, his voice low and graveled. His hands left her hair and began to grip her back, her ass, her breasts. His own blood that had spilled onto her as she fed from him he spread across her, relishing in the slick friction in a way that he figured he probably shouldn't think about too much. His knuckles whitened under the warm blood as he gripped her skin tightly, knowing he couldn't hurt her.

His voice broke her trance, if only a little.

"No." she said again, it had been her mantra since she first slid her teeth into his flesh. She had looked starving and wild and Zapata did absolutely nothing to help her control herself. He had wanted this. "No, nonononono," she said again.

This time she was able to peel herself off of him. She fell back and scrambled away from him, as if he was the one digging his fangs into _her_.

"David," she murmured, terror, clear as any emotion he had ever seen on her face, molded her features "David, no, no, forgive me."

And as David looked at her, for the first time, out of arms reach and broken from his needy grip, a trickle of fear entered his conscience.

There was a lot of blood.

Spread across her mouth and her arms. Her shirt was so thoroughly soaked in his blood that it clung to her curves tightly. Zapata knew that he probably looked a thousand times worse.

He started to feel cold in the warm Nevada night. That was his first clue.

Lenore had started crying now, silently pleading for his forgiveness. Zapata stood and wobbled a bit, surprised at how dizzy he suddenly was. Lenore made a move as if to support him, a gesture of worry and instinct, but then she stopped herself. Zapata looked warily at her, and they both knew in that moment that something between them had fundamentally changed.

Zapata stood, braced like a hunter, looking at the monster in front of him, covered in blood.

"David, I need you to kill me." She pleaded.

Zapata shook his head and then instantly regretted it. He held a hand to his throat where she had bitten him, stopping what little blood he could. He might as well have tried to stop a flood with a pebble. He was too tired to fight. He was too tired to come up with an argument. He couldn't. He just couldn't.

His eyes felt heavy drowsy but he knew that he need to get to something resembling medical attention before he passed out. He stumbled toward his car, hoping he could keep it together long enough to get to the hospital.

"You need to go." He mumbled, staggering as he turned his back on her, wandering out of the woods.

Lenore stayed where she was, with her back against the tree. She didn't trust herself to get any closer and Zapata wasn't a hundred percent sure that he trusted her either.

"David, come back here." Lenore pleaded again. "David, get back here and kill me!"

But Zapata ignored her.

He slid into the drivers seat and let out a long, exhausted sigh. He pulled out his phone and dialed Paige, the only one who could help him now. He could barely see the screen through the blood that coated his phone.

"Zapata?" answered Paige.

"What…motel?" he asked, his voice softer than he intended.

"I can't hear you, David. Are you OK?"

"No." he answered shortly, "What motel are you at? I know you said to leave you alone… but…"

"You're hurt. Jesus, David. The White Rock motel on Fifth and Grant. Where are you? I'll come to you."

"No. Too… dangerous. I'm on my way."

He hung up his phone with difficulty.

* * *

Paige didn't recognize the car that Zapata pulled up in, but as it swerved before parking at an odd angle, Paige knew that it was her former deputy.

She ran out of the room and pulled open his car door. She had never seen so much blood in her life. She fished Gabriel's coin out of her pocket and squeezed, thinking desperate, frantic thoughts to the archangel.

Paige almost dropped the coin in surprise as it glowed warm, almost hot, in her hand. She couldn't see or hear anything distinct, like a worded or visual message. But she got jolts of energy, emotion. And in some unspeakable way, she knew that Gabriel was busy.

Busy defending his own life.

"Can you scoot?" she asked Zapata as he slumped in the seat. He gave a tired moan in response.

She slid down and wrapped her arm around him, holding his dead weight upright as she tried to arrange his limbs enough so she could fit behind the wheel. Paige squeezed in. It wasn't a comfortable fit, but it was enough. The car practically squealed as she ripped out of the parking space.

"Stay with me, Zapata." Paige said firmly as she drove. It would do her no good if she freaked out now, like she wanted to. Zapata opened his eyes a fraction as he looked at her. They were glazed over. "Goddamn it!" she snapped and she reached over and slapped his face. He gave a small jolt, then looked at her with new focus. "Sorry, Zapata, but you have to stay with me. You just have to. Got it? You can't die. You can't fucking die and it can't fucking be my fault. "

"Not your fault," he said, drowsily, though to his credit, he was clearly trying to hold it together, "I… knew… I wanted…" He swallowed hard as he tried to compose himself. He let out a little hum of pain as the gesture warranted a new gush of blood from the wound on his neck. "Call me David, OK?" he asked, smiling at her.

He reached over and clutched her hand in his.

Paige fought the warmth behind her eyes as she held the dying man's hand. She could cry later. She had to get him to a hospital.

"David." She said softly, like a whisper. The only indication that Zapata had even heard her came in the form of a tiny squeeze from the palm entwined with hers.

* * *

"Hey, Jo, how's the hunt?" asked Paige over the phone.

"Shit, man," groaned Jo, "I don't know what happened. They were kind of sitting there, talking to us, you know, fucking _talking _to us and all of the sudden, something just snapped and they attacked."

"Are you guys OK?"

"Yeah, just exhausted. I mean, I guess vamps will always be vamps, but they seemed so different. Like, Twilight "we don't eat people" vamps. Then, turns out they do. Just weird."

"I have a theory on that, but I actually needed to tell you that I'm not in the room."

Jo was silent for a few minutes.

"Are you with Gabriel?" she asked softly to avoid being overheard by Ellen.

"No, I'm at the hospital. With Zapata."

"_What the fuck?"_

"Yeah, it turns out we overlapped on this case. He got bit."

"Wait, what?"

"It's bad, Jo." Paige said, her voice cracking, "He lost a lot of blood. I don't know… I don't know if…"

"Have you called Gabriel? I feel like he probably owes you."

"I think… I think he is in trouble."

"Wait, _what?"_ asked Jo again, "Fuck it, you aren't making any sense. I'm coming to the hospital. Don't bother trying to talk me out of it."

"Thanks, Jo."

* * *

"Paige, " Jo's voice came as a whisper. Paige straightened up from where she had been dozing in the waiting room. "Hey. They're looking for a Mrs. Zapata. I assume that's you."

Paige practically leapt out of the chair. Jo led Paige to the nurse who had been looking for her.

"Mrs. Zapata?" she asked, eyeing Paige. Paige nodded, rubbing some of the sleep out of her eyes. "You're husband is awake and stable, we've just transferred him from the E.R. He lost a lot of blood, but we've given him two transfusions. We want to keep him for the rest of the night and observe him for rabies from whatever bit him."

Paige nodded absently.

"Would you like to see your husband?" the nurse asked.

Paige nodded again began to follow the nurse. The nurse opened her mouth to say something as Jo made to follow as well, but Paige linked her fingers with Jo, leaving little question. The nurse cast a look between the two, clearly wondering exactly what kind of relationship the three had between them, but she didn't say a word.

Zapata was sitting upright in the bed, looking exhausted but clean, at least. Paige was immensely relieved to see that the warmth of his tawny complexion returning instead of the frighteningly pale color his lips had turned as she pulled into the hospital.

"You look like shit." Zapata said jokingly, eyeing Paige.

Paige rushed forwards and kissed Zapata on the lips in a hasty panic, Jo stood awkwardly by the door, politely looking away from their exchange. Zapata ran a thumb along her face and smiled at her greeting.

"You had me so scared." Paige whispered.

Zapata grinned.

"What? You think a little vamp bite is gonna stop me?"

"There was so much blood…"

"Yeah. It's all over you now." Said Zapata, leaning back and looking at Paige's clothes, rusty brown with his blood.

"Yeah, here, Paige." Said Jo quickly, stepping forward and handing Paige a bag she had been holding, "It's some clean clothes. You were asleep when I got here… " She nodded to the bathroom.

Paige hesitated.

"Look," said Zapata, holding out his arms and gesturing down his still pale body, with tubes sticking out of his arms, "I'm in fighting condition. You can leave, I'm not dying in the next two seconds."

Paige giggled and nodded, smiling a thanks at Jo as she crept out of the room to change. Zapata turned his warm smile from Paige, as she disappeared, to Jo.

"Thanks, for doing that." He said to her.

Jo nodded but continued to stand, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked at the floor instead of Zapata. Zapata's smile faltered, slightly.

"So-" he said into the silence that bordered on awkward.

"Funny that you guys overlapped this case." She said, "Pretty lucky that Paige knew where to find you. I guess you guys have each other's numbers and shit. You guys probably talk and text and sext or whatever kids are doing these days."

"Ummm… yeah. I suppose. I don't know what sexting is, but I don't think that—"

"I mean, I thought you guys broke up or whatever. And she's been acting like you guys broke up. And now, here you are."

Zapata watched Jo with an odd expression. He seemed to struggle with himself before he gave in and asked.

"Wait, what do you mean she's been act—"

"She hooked up with a guy a little while ago." Jo said promptly. She watched his face hungrily for a flash of jealousy, almost vindictively, as if she wanted to hurt him.

"Well… that's not really any of my business." Zapata said, diplomatically.

"She was really upset when you broke up. Like, really upset. So I don't want you swooping back in here with your dumb car and stupid floppy hair and breaking her heart again."

"You think my hair is floppy?" Zapata asked with a grin. Jo gave him a filthy look. He couldn't help but chuckle at the tiny blonde, staring daggers at him. "I feel like you're maybe projecting some stuff."

"I want you to lose her number."

"Look, Jo." Said Zapata, "I'm sorry that Paige was upset. But don't you think that this is stuff between her and me?" Suddenly, his face registered about ten emotions at once. Surprise, pity, amusement and a few more of the general caliber. "Woah. Jo. That's… intense. I didn't know."

"Didn't. Know. What?" Jo snarled, daring him to say it, a little afraid that he would.

"Does Paige know?" he asked, "Does she… like girls like that? Like you?"

"Shut your face." Jo hissed.

"Oh, Jo." Said Zapata, shaking his head, "Oh, Jo. This is bad. If she doesn't. I just… this is bad."

"You got a problem with girl on girl?" asked Jo, meanly.

"No! No. I _love _girl on girl, just ask my Google search history. But it's pretty fucked up if you're sitting around, in love with her and she isn't even on that same frequency."

"Just, shut up." Said Jo, "Just… stop talking about it."

Zapata was obviously not eager to drop the subject.

"Fine. But can I say one thing?" Jo gave him a look that very much said, 'no.' Zapata continued anyways. "I liked Paige. I do like Paige. But she can't love me. She told me she can't love me. That's… why we broke up, I guess. She says she can't love at all, anymore. I hope she's wrong. I hope she can love after all. I hoped she'd love me, but if she never does… I hope she loves you."

"Thanks, Zapata." Said Jo softly. "I was actually rooting for you. Same logic, I guess."

Both quickly looked to the door and the handle moved.

Paige walked in, her hair pulled into a sloppy bun, wearing an oversize sweatshirt and jeans. Her face was washed out and there were circles under her eyes.

And both Zapata and Jo shared the exact same thought. "She's perfect."

Paige looked between the two, reading the weird mood in the room.

"What? What'd I miss?"

* * *

"So, I guess you're just going to screwed when it comes to the car's deposit." Paige said, driving Zapata's bloodstained rental car back to their motel together. Jo was driving her mother's Jeep and stopping for breakfast, giving Zapata and Paige some alone time.

Zapata shrugged.

"Looks like it. Maybe I'll buy it. I've been wanting a new car anyways."

"Want an old Cadillac?"

"No! You can't be serious! You can't get rid of that beauty."

"Sorry, I like air conditioning and reasonable gas mileage."

"Pragmatism is so depressing."

"True."

They drove in companionable silence for a few moments before Paige finally asked what she had been wanting to the whole drive.

"What happened, David?"

Zapata pulled his lips into a thin line and shook his head, looking down at his hands in his lap.

"I got in, way over my head." He said, sheepishly. Paige could hear a note of heartbreak under it.

"So," said Paige, reluctantly, "is it true? Once a vamp, always a vamp? You said that one day she'd be weak. Is she back on humans now?"

"I just…" said Zapata, and he put his head in his hands, "Oh, my God, Paige, what have I done? She's out there, now. She could be feeding. She could be killing. Why didn't I… why didn't I kill her like a goddamned hunter would? Why couldn't I just be a fucking man?"

"It isn't your fault, David. I think…" Paige hesitated, "I think that her breaking has something to do with Lucifer rising."

Zapata turned his head so quickly to face her that she heard him crick his neck. He placed pressure over the bandaged would as he winced, but kept his attention on her.

"How did you know that?" he asked, "How did you know that it would affect Lenore?"

"Ga—Loki, "Paige corrected quickly, "He said that the rising of Lucifer would bring about Hell on earth. That it would bring forth evil. And then Lenore practically drained you. I just figured that 'bring forth evil,' means bringing out the bloodthirsty, monster parts of all demonic creatures"

"That's Lenore." Said Zapata, sourly. "Demonic creature. She's a monster, and I was stupid for thinking that she was ever anything else."

"You were in love."

Zapata snorted, then gave her a look out of the corner of his eye.

"Love." He sighed, "For someone who claims they can never love again, you seem pretty perceptive."

"Don't go there, Zapata." Paige said in a thin voice, "We were getting along so well. I was doing so well."

"Fine," said Zapata, shortly.

* * *

"Zapata?" asked Ellen, as Paige and Zapata got out of the car at the diner where they were eating breakfast, "It's been a very long time. How are you?"

"Good," said Zapata, "A little less blood than I had yesterday, but, I'm hanging in there."

Ellen smiled at his joke.

"Well, Jo and I killed a lot of vamps last night when we raided the nest. Take comfort in that. They won't hurt anyone else."

Paige watched Zapata as closely as she could without being conspicuous. He swallowed hard and plastered on a strained smile.

"That is good news, thank you, Ellen."

Zapata held up a finger, excusing himself as his phone rang. The three women left him outside as they trooped into the diner, sliding into a booth, Jo slid next to her mother, leaving room for Zapata next to Paige.

They had just gotten their coffee when Zapata came in, looking flushed.

"What's up, Zapata?" asked Paige, concerned.

"I just got a call from Rufus." He said, "There's a problem, in a place called River Pass Colorado? He said all hunters on deck. It sounds big, but I got cut off, which is even more concerning in my book."

Paige and Jo looked to Ellen.

"Colorado, it is then."

* * *

**So, reviews? Reviews? Please? First 4 reviews get a gluten free vegan cookie! Or a beer. Yeah, lets go with beer.**


	33. Chapter 33: Whoa, Lord

**Ok, kids. Here we go again.**

**Another chapter where I'm blending my characters into an already existing episode. I'm really sorry, guys. So, same rules apply; If I skip a bomb line, I apologize. I'm just trying to use what I need to tell my story, obviously the episode is perfect just the way it is. **

**I'm also sorry that I had to break this episode into two different chapters. I spend an indulgent amount of time in Dean's head. In case you don't have Superwiki as your homepage or watch SPN episodes on a constant loop like I do, this is the episode where Dean finally lets Sam go off on his own in the end. I kind of wanted to get into that a bit, since it is such a huge change in their relationship. Also, I think that Zapata and Dean could have a bromance of epic proportions. **

**Read and review! I'll try to have the rest of this episode posted by the weekend. On the one hand, it's easier since I don't have to come up with scenes and stuff all by myself, _but _it's more tedious to write. So... give and take. **

* * *

Dean Winchester was seriously not liking how things were looking in River Pass, Colorado. First, he'd had to leave baby at some washed out bridge. Baby and with her trunk full of ammo and weapons. And now, the little dystopia Mayberry he was looking at was giving him some major chills.

He covered Sam as Sam pulled the keys out of the ignition of a station wagon playing the world's most annoying song and they shared a look.

This is what the apocalypse looked like. End of days looked like flipped cars and bloody baby strollers.

They heard a gun cock behind them, both froze.

"Hello, boys." Said Ellen.

* * *

The second that Sam closed the door behind him, Ellen's voice broke and she pulled Dean into an uncharacteristic hug.

"Real glad to see you boys." She said, her voice fragile and cracked with tears.

Breaking from the hug she gave an already surprised looking Dean a solid smack to the head.

"You can't pick up a phone?" she snapped. "What? Are you allergic to giving me peace of mind?"

"Sorry, Ellen." Both men mumbled. They towered over her but looked distinctly like guilty children getting a scolding.

"Better put me on speed dial, kid." Said Ellen, turning and leading them to the basement of the church.

Dean shot an incredulous look over his shoulder at Sam. Sam shrugged.

"So," said Ellen, softly, when they reached the basement door, "This is it, huh? End Times?"

"Seems like it." Said Sam.

Ellen stood for a moment, eyes shining a bit. Then she gave a solemn nod, like she knew it would happen eventually. That was a hunter's reaction to the apocalypse. 'End of the world? Well, we knew it's come sooner or later.'

Average people, normal people, panicked. They prayed and cried and tried to figure out 'why?' Hunters nodded and cocked their guns.

"It's me." She said, after knocking on the door. There was the sound of wood sliding against wood as someone on the other side of the door looked out a makeshift peephole at them. The door opened with a click and Sam and Dean walked into the basement with the only town survivors. A pregnant girl and a man with his arm around her, a priest, a man who (judging from his beard) came from the high country and a man in a suit, gently strumming his finger along his wedding band, looking shell shocked.

The man who opened the door to them stood rigid. Dean looked him over and they shared an almost imperceptible nod. A soldier acknowledging another.

"Alright, catch us up," said Dean, turning to Ellen, getting to business.

"I doubt I know much more than you." Said Ellen, "Rufus called. Said he was in town investigating omens. All of the sudden, the whole town was possessed. Me and Jo were nearby –"

"You were hunting with Jo?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrows as he remembered just how scary Ellen was when she found out that Jo snuck off hunting with them.

"Yeah." Said Ellen, "For awhile now." Ellen hesitated, "With Paige too. Those two have been pretty much inseparable for almost three years. I was with Paige, Jo and another hunter called Zapata when we got the call. When we all got here the place… well, the place was like you see it. Couldn't find Rufus, then me and Jo got separated. We were all out looking when I ran into you. Zapata and Paige should be back soon."

Ellen didn't say anything, but the way she looked at Dean told him to be nice.

"You know how co-dependent hunting partners can get." She said pointedly "Paige ain't exactly been in a good way since Jo's been missing. Neither have I. We need to be professionals about this."

Dean nodded just as there was a knock at the door. The soldier looked through the peephle before casting a nervous look over his sholder to the three hunters talking in hushed voices.

A Mexican man about Dean's age came stumbling in, clutching a bloody shoulder.

"Damn it, Zapata." Gushed Ellen in an irritated voice that did little to mask her concern, "Can you do one whole hunt without getting shot, stabbed or bit?"

"Well, Ellen," said Zapata, attempting a grin but managing a strained grimace as he shrugged off his coat, "You know how much I like it when you get all sexy nurse on me."

He dropped into a chair, placing pressure on the wound in his shoulder. Ellen stepped forward and smacked the back of his head.

"You ain't dyin', then." She said, the annoyed tone of her voice couldn't keep the relief from her eyes. "Paige…"

Zapata looked at the floor and shook his head.

"We got ambushed." He said, "She told me to run. I thought she was right behind me, I swear. No blood. No body. I think they took her."

"The demons?"

Zapata was quiet for a moment, and then nodded.

"Rufus."

"Come again?"

"Rufus, he's possessed. He's one of the demons. He was the one leading the ambush that got us. But… These demons don't play fair. Rufus has the anti-possession tattoo, same as me. And…" Zapata moved his hand to look at the wound, "Then… This is the shoulder that got shot. The one that Paige shot me with when I was possessed way back in Texas. When I first met them. When I first started hunting. We were fighting just now, hand to hand, you know, and he paused for a minute and then hit me, right in my old war wound. He trained me, he knew exactly where the tendons and stuff never healed right. He cold have shot or killed me…I mean this hurts like a mother fucker, but still. I could be dead."

"That does sound a little off…"

"Just a bit."

Zapata seemed to see Sam and Dean for the first time. After looking at them for a minute, his face lit up as he realized who they were.

"Sam. Dean." He looked to Ellen, almost for confirmation, "Winchester."

Sam and Dean looked at each other and nodded.

"You must be Zapata." Said Dean, stepping forwards, "I've heard of you. You took out that sigbin in California. All by yourself. Damn impressive."

"Well, I do how I do." Said Zapata, with a weak grin. "And _you've_ heard of _me_? Winchesters, it's an honor to finally meet you. I'd shake your hand, but, well."

"It's fine," said Sam, with a friendly smile, "We understand. We're always happy to meet another hunter."

Ellen dropped the first aid kit next to Zapata with a small crash. The few medical stores left rolled nosily around the empty plastic bin. With his good arm, he flipped open the box and started thumbing through the sparse supplies.

"Not much left." He observed.

"Nope." agreed Ellen, "Not much at all."

Zapata pulled his arm out of his sleeve and replaced his hand with a square of gauze, his blood easily adhering it to his flesh. As he went about wrapping up his wound, Sam and Dean stood to talk to Ellen.

"These people cannot just _sit _here," said Sam, looking around the room, "We need to get them out."

"It ain't that easy." Said Ellen, "We tried. We already made a run for it once."

"What happened?"

"There used to be twenty of us." Said Zapata, harshly from his seat.

Sam and Dean looked around the room again. There were less than ten people before them.

"What if we gave everyone guns?" asked Sam.

"What? Are you gonna arm up baby bump over there?"asked Dean.

"More salt we can fire at once, the more demons we can keep away." Said Sam, practically. Dean gave his brother a long look, then a resigned nod.

"Alright," said Sam to Ellen and Zapata, "You stay. We'll go." Ellen opened her mouth to protest, "If Paige and Jo are out there, we'll find them."

With that, the brothers left the secured basement. Once the door shut behind them, Dean held out his hand to stop Sam from climbing the stairs to the outside.

"How about just I go?" said Dean, "Someone's gotta stay here and start giving them shotgun 101."

"Yeah. Ellen. Or Zapata. They've got two perfectly adequate hunters, they don't need a third." Said Sam, dismissively. He made to start back up the stairs.

"Look, this will go a lot faster if you just stay here."

"While you go and get guns, and salt and look for Jo and Rufus? And Paige? If you see her, you actually have to bring her back to camp like a professional. You aren't allowed to shoot her."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"I can do it," he said.

Sam realized what had made his brother hesitate.

"You don't want me going out there." He said, trying to keep his face and tone civil.

"I didn't say that." Said Dean, perhaps a little too quickly.

"Around demons."

"I didn't say that." Dean repeated.

"Fine," said Sam, "Then let's go."

Sam stomped up the stairs, seething. Dean watched him go nervously, wishing he _had_ said something. His moose of a brother was about as scary as a bunny rabbit. Or at least he had been. Before the demon blood and Ruby.

Growing up, they rarely fought. They sparred. They argued. But neither one had ever lifted their fist to the other to hurt, and if they had, it would have been Dean. Sam was stubborn, sure, but violent temper had never been Sam's thing. Of course, that had been before. Before the fist fight. Before Sam stormed out after his demon whore girlfriend, leaving Dean bloody on the floor.

When he was desperate for another hit of bitch blood, Sam scared the living crap out of him. He'd rather have Sam resent him like Sam had resented their father than have Sam fall off the wagon. Dean wasn't sure he could live through that again.

He jogged up the stairs, after the younger Winchester, trying (against his better judgment) to trust him again.

* * *

Sam and Dean reentered the locked down basement about an hour later, each loaded with supplies. The townspeople looked quietly at the guns as the brothers laid them out on the table, each had a surreal resolve on their faces.

Suddenly, it had become real. They were looking at real guns, that they were going to shoot at their real neighbors.

One by one, they all quietly turned their attention to Zapata. He stood with a quiet, unspoken authority and walked toward the brothers and the arms.

"Ok, step on up, don't be shy. Grab a gun, grab a hunter, they'll show you what to do. We got enough for everyone."

Slowly, the people got up to follow him.

After a few minutes, Ellen and Sam were walking among the townsfolk, supervising. Safety on, two pellets in the tube, one in the chamber, pump. Over and over, the survivors repeated the motions until they were as close to second nature as they were ever going to get.

Dean wandered by Zapata, who was watching baby bump load and unload her shotgun out of the corner of his eye.

"You serve?" he asked Zapata. Even for a hunter, the man had the cool authority of someone who had been professionally trained to wield a gun.

"No. Was a cop. Before." He said simply. Dean nodded. Zapata looked over at him, and Dean knew that he didn't need to explain his history. The way that the other hunter watched him sadly told him that the rumors, the fame that neither he nor Sam wanted had spread the word of his family's Greek fucking tragedy of a life far and wide.

Between angels hunting him down to use him as a meat suit and hunters like Zapata, looking at him with heartbreaking pity and awe, Dean could go for a little less attention in his life.

He nodded to Zapata, who returned the gesture, and then went to sit next to his brother, sulking.

"What's wrong?" he asked, though he didn't really need to. A part of him knew exactly what was wrong, and he hated it. He had seen Sam look guiltily up at him, bloody knife in his hand. He hadn't wanted Sam out, unsupervised, with demons, with demon _blood _pumping through their veins and this was why. Sam wanted it. Sam wanted to lick that blood off the blade, off the demons themselves. Dean knew it would happen. It was like watching a train wreck that he was powerless to stop.

"Those demons were possessing kids. I had to slit some teenager's throat." Sam said. Sam shook his head as Dean opened his mouth to reassure his brother that he had only done what had to be done. "I know, I know." He said. "I just wish that I could help people again."

"Back when you were all hopped up on demon blood?"

"I didn't say that."

Dean had to look away from him as he shook his head.

The Winchesters; family crushed by the things people didn't say.

Ellen walked up to them, shotgun in hand.

"Where are you going?" asked Dean.

"I'm going out there, I can't just sit on my ass. My girls are out there. My _daughter _is out there somewhere. If I'm not back in half an hour, go."

Both stood.

"No, wait," said Sam, speaking first, "I'll go with you."

"Whoa, hold on," said Dean, putting a hand in front of Sam and looking up at him, "Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked his brother.

Once they were out of the room with the other townsfolk, Dean turned to Sam.

"I'll go." He said.

"It's fine. Stay here, get them ready with Zapata."

"Why's it gotta be you?" Dean asked.

Sam rolled his eyes and gave a humorless chuckle.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot. " he said, " You think I'll take one look at a demon and fall off the wagon. As if, after everything, I haven't learned my lesson."

Dean thought of Sam, staring at the blood on his knife. Dean thought of Sam, just a few minutes ago, talking about how much better things were when he could "help" people.

As he looked at Sam, he remembered the confidant Sam that stood before him a year ago. Back then, he had thought that he could control it too. The doomed train was about to leave the station.

"Well," said Dean, meanly, "have you?"

Sam shoved him, Dean landed loudly against the wall. The room of surviving townspeople fell silent.

"How could you even—" Sam started.

The familiarity of being shoved by his brother wasn't lost on Sam either. Dean just looked up at him, knowing that he was right and wishing, more than anything, that he wasn't.

* * *

Ellen and Sam walked, guns cocked, down the desolate town road.

"Where did you see her last?" asked Sam.

"Up ahead," said Ellen, pointing with her chin to an old cabin about a hundred feet away. "So, what's up with you and Dean?"

Sam looked away from her and back over his shoulder, avoiding her question.

"Well, it's hard not to notice," continued Ellen, "How different things are between you two now a days? What happened? Some girl come between you or something?"

Sam had to admire the irony in that. As mundane and clichéd as it sounded, Ellen had hit the nail right on the head. His brother couldn't trust him anymore, couldn't have a civil conversation with him anymore, could look him in the eye anymore because of a girl.

He shook his head.

"Nah, just stresses of the job, you know how it is." Sam changed the subject, "Kind of surprised, you and Jo hunting. Didn't you always think she couldn't hack the life?"

"She can't" said Ellen, "But, if she's gonna do it anyway." Ellen shrugged, "I just started hunting with her a few months back. Before that, I was huntin' by myself. Then with Bobby for about a year, off and on. It had been two years and when I found her, Jo was actually doin' ok. Guess I'm a little proud and a little sad that she doesn't seem to need me anymore. She and Paige are pretty tight. You know how hunting pairs get. Even though they're the same age, Paige is a lot more grown up than Jo was two years ago. Poor girl is pretty young to have seen so much. She's a damn good hunter, though. They both are."

Sam made a polite sound in the back of his throat. Paige was still a facet of his memory and his father's legacy that he didn't like to dwell on. He didn't hate her like Dean did. Bobby had told him and Dean about her son. And then there was Spencer's rape tape. Part of him wanted to label poor Paige, or Sophie, a victim. But, she wasn't. Not entirely. She had _killed _a man. Shot him eight times, straight in the heart. Spencer Platt was a waste of space and he probably deserved to die, but there was a world of difference between looking at someone and thinking that they shouldn't be alive and actually pulling the trigger.

Sam had shot Madison, and it still haunted him. Every minute of his life, he remembered her, on the bed where they had made love, the smell of sex still in the sheets. She was crying and begging him to pull the trigger. She had killed. She _would _kill. She was a beautiful, funny, sexy, perfect monster and he was a hunter.

So he did what he had to do.

Spencer was a pig. A fucking, sick, selfish pig, but he had never killed. There was no evidence that he would kill. And he was found shot full of hunter ammo.

Ellen wasn't put off by Sam's silence.

"Then again, one of the few good things John did was train some tough hunters." She continued, conversationally.

"Ummm, Ellen…" said Sam.

"You still don't like talking about her? Is it an age thing? Or is it a your Daddy's memory thing. Dean was always the one so gung ho on idolizing the man, never expected it from you."

"It's complicated. It's just easier to not talk about it."

"See, and here, I thought you would understand. "Ellen gave a strained smile, "Thought you might understand Paige better than your brother understands her. Maybe even better than Zapata or Jo understand her. See, I thought you might be able to relate to losing your lover, same demon, might I add. Thought you could understand how it feels to be numb to it. To kind of give up on the idea of romance and partnership. That's why she and Zapata broke up, you know. See, Zapata wanted it all. Wife, kids. Family. Set his sights on Paige. People do it. Hunters have families. Mixed results, but still. Anyways, Paige told him she couldn't love. She couldn't feel it anymore. It was dead. Losing people hurt more than loving felt good, so she stepped away."

Sam stayed silent.

"So, I just figured that you might understand."

"Hey, Ellen." Said Sam, suddenly. The emotional pow-wow was over as both returned to hunting mode. He pointed forward to a rising cloud of smoke.

"That a chimney going?"

"Looks like it."

* * *

Dean walked back into the room with the townspeople, everyone was deliberately avoiding his eyes. He sat back down at the table with Zapata who was preparing salt rounds. Dean pulled some empty pellets and a bag of rock salt towards him and started.

Zapata gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

After a few minutes of working in silence, Zapata got up to change his bandage.

"Hey, sorry, man." Said Dean, suddenly, reaching into his pocket. He tossed the pack dental floss to Zapata. "I guess I forgot to give it to you. Grabbed it while we were getting salt and stuff. Hope you don't mind, looked like that needed stitches."

"Yeah, it does," said Zapata, smiling broadly. "Thanks, man. Really thoughtful."

Zapata started fumbling with the needle and floss.

"So," said Dean after a moment, "Old hunting wound, did you say?"

"Yup." Zapata smiled to himself as he remembered. "I was just a deputy in this tiny Texas border town. Minding my own business, working this case with a couple of disappeared kids when this icy, frigid, bitch of a reporter comes in and starts asking questions about my case. And, I swear, everything that came out of her mouth was a complete surprise. Find out my bartender is a demon and a fucking true blue _boogeyman _is behind taking these kids. Turns out that the bitch reporter was a hunter and she does this shit for a living." He shook his head, "First supernatural case I ever worked and I get shot. Now, end of days, and I'm lamed up by the same old scar. Kinda poetic."

Zapata's voice didn't sound like he appreciated the poetry. Dean had an inkling of what was bothering him. As Zapata fumbled to stitch his right shoulder with his left hand, Dean reached over and took the needle from him. Dean raised his eyebrows at him, silently asking permission to stitch him up. Zapata nodded, looking grateful.

"She's a hunter first, girl second. She had a gun, right? This is war. You guys are soldiers. Chivalry is great until it comes to your own skin. You don't owe _anybody _that."

"Funny. Legend is you went to Hell for your brother."

"Yeah, well…"

"Sorry." Said Zapata quickly, "Not my place to pry."

"You got a brother?"

"A sister. Older. Though she used to kick my ass hard enough that she could have been a brother." Said Zapata with a smile.

Dean returned it.

"It's just, you love this person, so much. You were kids together, you know. You literally know every single facet of this person, inside and out. They drive you batshit crazy sometimes. They frustrate you to no end. Then, they're all grown up. And they don't listen to you like they used to. Even though you _know _them better than they do. Better than you know _yourself._ You can see them making the same mistakes over and over. Do they listen? No."

"Maybe it isn't your job to save them."

"He's my blood." Said Dean, sadly.

"Look, I may not know about having a brother. I know a little about addiction. You can't stop him from spiraling. The more you try to control, the more they pull away. You have to let them pull away. You have to let them fuck up or dry up on their own. At first you think it will kill you to see the back of them. Then, they're gone and it's kind of a relief. Because, for once, you aren't responsible."

"Your sister an addict?" asked Dean, quietly.

"Maricela? God, no. My father. He left when I was eight. I used to think that it was my exclusively my duty to keep him sober. My mom had to work two jobs just to keep my sister and I fed and to keep my father out of too much trouble. She was always gone and Maricela washed her hands of him when she was ten. So, I thought I had to do it. Then, just, one day he left. I thought it would be the end of me. But I realized that he was an adult. He was a fucking adult and _he _needed to be the one to keep himself sober. I was happy, for the first time in my life, when he left. Blood or not, you can't keep someone strapped to the wagon if they really want to get off."

Dean didn't reply as he finished Zapata's stitches.

"Well. Not perfect, but, hey. Chicks dig scars." he said lightly.

"Then I should be up to my eyeballs in bitches any day now." Said Zapata, inspecting Dean's handiwork.

Dean chuckled and patted Zapata on his good arm, helping him out of the chair. There was a sudden pounding on the door. Dean opened it to let Ellen in. Alone.

"Where's Sam?" he asked.

Ellen looked at him and shook her head.

"Demons?" asked baby bump. "Demons took him? What if they're in here?"

"Could they get in?" the preist asked panicked, turning to Zapata.

"No." he said, without a minute's hesitation.

Dean bent down and picked up a gun.

"Everybody _sit tight._"he said, turning his back on them, "I gotta…"

But something stopped him. His own words rang in his head, _Civalry is great until it comes to your own skin. Y__ou don't owe anybody that. _Then, Zapata's words joined his own, _H__e's a fucking adult and he needed to be the one to keep himself sober. _

Dean needed to treat Sam's disappearance the same as he treated Jo and Paige's. Sam was an adult. Sam was a hunter. It wasn't his job anymore to protect Sam. Sam had to protect himself.

Dean turned back to the group. They were all silently watching his indecision. Steeling himself, Dean stepped away from the door, back towards Ellen and Zapata.

"We need to get a plan together."


	34. Chapter 34: Whoa, Lord II

**So, I was totally going to do this Friday night, but instead I went to a bar and drank. Then I went to another bar and drank. You understand.**

**So, _finally _done with the episode blendy thing. It's just... tedious. And I'm sorry if the end seems abrupt. In all honesty, I kind of wanted to just have it be over. I mean, I brought the episode in because Paige and the Winchesters have a weird relationship that will be a major factor later. Plus, Paige is totally batting for the anti-apocalypse team with them. But, really, the horsemen and the rings and the Lucifer and Michael thing is the Winchester's spiel. Sorta. You'll see in the next couple of chapters. Anyways, a normal (for me) chapter coming up next. But, fun character relationship dynamics for now!**

* * *

Jo looked over at Rufus again.

"Why isn't it working?" she asked in a low voice, the salt container still in her hand. Sam sat, tied to the chair with rock salt sticking to his face where Rufus had practically drowned him with Holy Water.

"Guys, it's me," Sam said, his eyes still black as Hell, "Guys, something isn't right."

Rufus and Jo looked at each other again.

Sam was right. Or rather, Demon Sam was right. There was seriously something off. Rufus saw the outline of the anti possession tattoo through the soaked neck of Sam's shirt. Zapata had one as well, the first thing that Rufus and the young hunter had done together as part of his training. On top of that, Paige had been spewing Hebrew exorcism spells at him and Jo since they grabbed her. When that didn't work, she had started on Latin.

They had locked the Demon Paige into a spare room. Jo hadn't had the heart to interrogate her like this, tied to a chair, shoving salt and Holy water down her throat. But Jo had a bad experience with a Demon possessed Sam, so she didn't seem as opposed to doing it to the youngest Winchester.

"What kind of demons are these?" Rufus asked, almost as much to himself as to Jo. "I have no idea. It's a new trick, though. New and terrifying. How do we protect ourselves from this?"

"We need to finish securing the house." Said Jo. She paused for a minute. "We need to open the rooms up so that way we can put townspeople at the windows with guns. What… what do you want to do with Paige?"

At the moment, the demon possessed Paige was in a locked spare bedroom down the hall. Rufus gave Jo a long look.

"I guess we have to put her in here."

"Two demons together?"

"This is what happens when you take hostages instead of killing them outright." Said Rufus, exasperated.

"Would you rather kill Sam or Paige?" asked Jo, knowing perfectly well that Rufus wouldn't do either, "And don't pretend that I didn't see you let Demon Zapata run off, scot free. It's hard to kill a hunter, Rufus. It's pointless to pretend that it isn't."

Rufus gave an almost imperceptible grunt of agreement as he looked back at Demon Sam. His shoulders dropped as Jo's words hit him.

No, he couldn't kill Sam. He couldn't kill Paige, and punching Zapata had been hard enough. Jo placed a reassuring hand on Rufus' a forearm and gave a gentle squeeze before she turned to go get her hunting partner from the back room. Rufus knew that she didn't blame him. It broke her heart to see her most trusted friend in the grips of a possession.

Rufus heard them approach by Paige's voice, once again reciting exorcism spells until she was blue in the face. Some sort of sick joke, he reasoned, from the demon inside her. Her hands were tied behind her back and Jo dropped her down to her knees across the room from Demon Sam, securing her to the exposed heater.

"No scheming." Said Rufus to the two demons as he turned to walk out the door.

"I'm going to get you back, Paige." Jo murmured to her friend, placing a hand on Paige's shoulder. "I'm going to get that demon bitch out of you."

With that Jo stood and walked out the door with Rufus, casting one last look over her shoulder.

Paige and Sam sat in silence for a couple of minutes.

"Paige?"

"I don't have time for your demon shit, demon. I'm thinking." The hunter replied.

"Paige, I'm not a demon. Something is off."

"Try getting rid of black-eyes and then say that again. It's a lot more convincing."

"Paige…"

"What the fuck is this?" she asked, exasperated. "This is some intense demon organization. I've never seen so many demons working together."

"Exactly." Said Sam, finally relieved that Paige was getting on board, "Paige, maybe there aren't any demons at all. Why doesn't salt, or holy water or exorcism spells work?"

"Demon, we've talked about you shutting up."

"Seriously, listen to me."

"Maybe it's a Lucifer thing." Said Paige, again to herself, "Maybe demons are stronger now?"

"You know about Lucifer rising?"

"Yeah, Zapata and I were hunting some Vamps and they seriously snapped the second it happened. All the evil on the planet has been amped up a notch."

"And it's all my fault."

"It isn't your faul—" Paige said, before stopping herself short, "Why am I talking to you?"

"Of course it's my fault" said Sam, sadly, "I killed Lilith. I broke the last seal."

"Lilith was a creepy bitch, who'd have guessed that killing her would be a bad thing?" asked Paige, "And, trust me, it was always going to happen."

"How do you know that?"

"Because _it is written_." She said, the end of her statement sounding like she was reciting words that she had heard a thousand times before. Her eyes were black, but Sam could tell that if she could, she would roll them.

"What?"

"It's just… never mind." She said quickly.

"Are you a prophet?"

"No."

"Have you met the angels?"

Paige was silent.

"You have."

"Look, Sam, or demonic Sam." Said Paige, "I really shouldn't—"

"_I'm not a demon."_

"You have no idea how much I wish that was true." Paige said after a long sigh.

"Why can't you trust me?" asked Sam, "Paige, we need to trust someone. Can't you just humor me?"

"When you humor demons, you sometimes end up dead."

"Look," said Sam, "They think that _we're_ demons, right? We think that _they're_ demons. What if there aren't any demons at all in this town?"

"Well, then, what would be doing _this _and why?"

"I don't know. Dean and I have had a few run ins with a Trickster. He could be powerful enough to pull something like this off."

"No, he'd never do this to me."

"What?"

"I meant, he'd never do this. What's the punch line? This isn't a Trickster."

"No. I guess you're right. It's powerful, though, whatever it is." Sam agreed. They fell back into silence again as they both thought.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Are Ellen and David ok?"

"David?"

"Zapata. David Zapata."

"Oh. Yeah. Last I saw them. Zapata's shoulder is hurt. Old hunting wound, apparently."

"His right shoulder?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Paige smiled sadly and adjusted her weight. She was tied with her hands behind her, attached to the water heater. Sam recognized the movement as she was trying to slip her ropes. It was an old trick his father taught him.

As he remembered his father, it was like a kick in the gut. Everything Ellen had told him came rushing back. Paige unable to love. Paige not wanting to get hurt again. And Ellen had been right. Sam could understand.

Jess had been… his everything. He was a freak at Stanford. He didn't fit in with his hunting family. He didn't fit in with his peers. Sam had never learned how to have real, healthy relationships with people his own age because his whole childhood, they'd never stood still long enough.

Then the holidays would roll around, and those were the worst. They'd close the dorms and everyone would go home to their family and Sam would check into a motel and pretend he was back home in Kansas.

Bobby called him once, that first Christmas. Dean had tried a few times, Sam was sure. A handful of calls from payphones around the country, done in secret and in quiet, out of John's earshot. But Dean would never leave a message and Sam would never pick up.

And yeah, Sam was lonely.

He was an island between normal and weird, not belonging to either. Then there was Jess. She saw that he was a little off and she didn't care. She introduced him to her friends. She took him to her parents' house for the holidays.

And they would lie in her childhood bed after having sloppy, frantic, quiet sex and giggle like teenagers sneaking around. Sam would stay awake long after she had fallen asleep and be amazed at how _comfortable _it was. Nothing in his life had been easy. Except Jess. Jess was as natural as breathing.

Then there was Madison. Then there was Madison's blood, dripping from her clean white sheets onto her clean white carpet and a warm gun clutched in his hand.

When he and Dean first started hunting together after Jess' death, Dean had been more eager to get Sam laid than Sam had been. Dean didn't say it aloud, but it was clear that he was worried about Sam shutting himself off. Being hollow and numb to women, love, and affection.

Dean was a romantic, but he'd punch you in the face for even suggesting it.

Maybe Dean wasn't into roses and poetry and he thought candlelight was only appropriate during a blackout or a summoning ritual, but Dean believed in the whole one man, one woman, forever and always faithful thing. That was why, Sam was sure, he hated Paige.

Young and pretty, Paige seemed like an odd match for their taciturn and tough father. No, John had died before he got truly old, but a twenty some year age difference would give even the most liberal minded pause.

She wasn't like Mary, or whoever Dean thought their mother was. John had been reluctant to talk about her and Dean was only a very small child when she died. Dean never knew Mary as an adult, as a _person._

But Dean had an idea of who she was and he didn't take kindly to people messing with it. He was sure that Paige had manipulated their father, assuming that that was the only reason that John could ever claim to love somebody besides their mother. Dean seemed to credit Paige with a lot more sultry persuasion than Sam saw in her, but then, Sam _was _numb.

There was like a wall in his heart, separating sex from love. Sex was a human need, one that he didn't like to feed, but one that was necessary. That was why it was kind of nice to have Ruby. He never loved her.

He had sex with her. He trusted her. It was enough to do an apocalypse worth of damage, but when she betrayed him, he only felt stupid. He didn't feel heartbreak.

But as Sam looked at Paige, he didn't see numbness.

He saw a girl who wanted desperately to be numb. He saw a girl who had been dragged trough the street called life and had come out worse for the wear, but she wasn't dead inside like him. Maybe she wanted to be, but she wasn't. She still could love. She still did love.

"Ok, why are you looking at me like that?" Paige asked him. Sam realized that he had been staring.

"Like what?"

"Like you just found out that someone ran over a puppy."

"Are you and Zapata a thing?" he asked.

"No. Why? Are you interested? He's a real catch."

"No jokes, Paige. Not right now."

Paige froze at his words and a sad smile flashed across her features.

"Joh—" Paige started, almost too soft to hear, "Someone told me that once before, those exact same words. It's a little eerie to hear them again… from you."

"You mean my dad?"

"Yes." Said Paige, and she squirmed against the ropes holding her hands, looking away from Sam. As she turned her head, Sam saw the light hit the reflection of a tear streak down her cheek.

"Did you really love him?"

"Of course." She said firmly, looking up at him, "Of course I did. "

"Good" said Sam quietly.

It wasn't Dean's kind of love.

Maybe it wasn't holding-hands-and-growing-old-together love. It wasn't furniture-shopping-and-sharing-a-newspaper-over-Sunday-brunch love. But Sam's father had someone to share his bed with. He had someone to share his meals with. He had someone to miss him when he was gone.

Whatever kind of love or attachment blossomed between his father and this broken girl in front of him, Sam would never know or understand. But it was a comfort to know that it had been there. That after twenty some years of hunts, and one night stands and death around every corner, his father had never been as hollow as he was. It gave him hope for Dean.

But him? He was too fucked up for hope.

The man with glasses and a suit peeked his head in. Sam thought he recognized him before, during Jo and Rufus' initial interrogation, but hadn't been sure. As the man walked into the room with Sam and Paige, Sam knew for certain that is was him.

Paige was tied with her back to the doorway, so she couldn't see what Sam was staring at over her shoulder.

"Who the hell are you?" Sam asked. The man looked bored by his question as he took off his glasses and wiped them on his sleeve. "_What_ are you?" Sam rephrased after a moments hesitation.

"You caught me," he said with a lazy shrug, "Popped in to watch."

"So, the real Rodger that everyone knows?" asked Sam.

"Buried in a ditch," said the man, nonchalantly.

He shut the door behind him as he walked into the room. He winked at Paige as he passed her and grabbed a chair, sitting it in front of Sam.

"So, who are you?" asked Sam.

"Here's a hint. I was in Germany. Then in Germany. Then in Central America. Then in the Middle East. I was in Darfur when my beeper went off? I'm waiting to hook up with my siblings, I've got three. We're going to have so much fun together."

Ever since Sam had found out about Castiel and angels, he had been scouring the Bible obsessively. He suddenly recognized the man in front of him as who he was.

"There aren't any demons in town, are there?" asked Sam.

"Honestly, people don't need a reason to kill each other." Said War. He looked over his shoulder at Paige who had been silent the whole time. "Ain't that right, sweetheart?"

"I'm going to kill you myself," said Sam, pulling War's attention from the hunter tied on the floor.

"Oh, that's adorable." Said War, "Considering you're my poster boy."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I can see inside your head," said War, "And, man, it is one track city in there. Blood, blood, blood. Lust. Power. Same as it's always been. But not just strong. Stronger than everybody. Good intentions? Quick slide to Hell, buddy boy."

Sam swallowed hard as the honesty of the words hit him.

"I can see inside your head too, sweetie," said War, over his shoulder. War stood, tugging the cuffs on his suit straight as he walked over to the young female hunter. He crouched down, so that he was eye level with her. He grabbed her chin as she tried to look away, pulling it towards him.

"And you know what I see?" he asked, his voice a dangerous whisper.

He caught her wrist the second that Paige lashed out at him. As War had tormented Sam, she had finally pulled the ropes off her wrists, but War had been onto her game all along.

He shoved her against the heater that she had been locked to as she came back with another swing. He aimed a level kick at her stomach and Sam swore he heard a rib crack beneath the horseman's shoe.

He stood again, putting his glasses back on.

"Watch this," he said to Sam and Paige. He twisted his wedding band, causing a trickle of blood to run from his hairline. He suddenly kicked a low table over and let out a pain laden yell.

Jo and Rufus came running in the room.

War pointed a shaking finger at Paige, who had just gotten to her feet.

"She did it!" he yelled, "She attacked me. She said that they're coming. She said that they're coming to get us!"

The hunters turned to Paige who started backing away from them. She held her hands in surrender, but all that the hunters saw were black demon eyes.

"Guys, wait. No. Guys, listen to us." Paige pleaded.

"Shut up," said Rufus, hitting her across the head.

Paige fell unconscious to the floor. Jo dropped down, pulling Paige's head into her lap, checking to make sure that she was breathing.

"C'mon, Jo." Said Rufus. "We need to prepare."

She hastily placed a kiss on Paige's forehead then turned and stood reluctantly. As Rufus, Jo and War left the room, War winked at Sam.

* * *

"Should we take her to a hospital?" asked Zapata as the three hunters drove out of Colorado.

Ellen was driving, Jo in the passenger's seat next to her. Zapata had Paige's head in his lap as she was laid out across the back seat.

"Maybe." Said Ellen.

"No." said Jo quickly.

"She's unconscious, Jo." Said Ellen, "This ain't no eighteenth century novel, that's serious. She could have a concussion."

"Trust me? Mom?" Jo peeked back to Zapata and Paige again.

Zapata caught Jo's eye in the mirror and Jo paused. They both knew that Jo was going to try and summon something to heal her. Jo felt a harsh hit of jealousy as she realized that Paige had told Zapata about Gabriel.

Because they were alone together a lot. Because they were a thing for a while. Paige told her secrets to her lover.

And that lover wasn't Jo. And it seriously sucked.

Ellen breathed heavily through her nose.

"Just stop at a motel for a night or two." Said Jo, pleaded. "Lets get her to a bed and bathroom and some food and stuff. We can take care of her properly."

"I don't know, Jo." Said Ellen hesitantly, "I thought I felt a broken rib. That can lead to internal bleeding."

"Mom." Jo said softly, "You really think I would ask you to do this if I didn't know what I was doing? If there was any chance that Paige might be in serious, life threatening danger?"

Ellen cast a sad look at her daughter while Zapata politely pretended not to notice. He was in the back seat, with her, because of the assumption of their past relationship and he knew it.

"We're going to Bobby's. Dean was acting weird when I mentioned him… I think something is wrong but the stubborn old coot won't answer my calls."

"I thought you and Bobby were, like, _together_." Said Jo, distracted by Bobby's sudden lack of communication.

"Me too." Said Ellen softly.


	35. Chapter 35: The Angel Done Gone

**Thanks to the anonymous reviewer, I got my ass in gear and published this next chapter! You can do that, by the way. Don't have to be a member to post a review to my stories. Because I'm very trusting. And very sad. **

**Anyways, long chapter but I've been dying to get this one off my chest for a while now. In case you missed him, Gabriel out the fucking wazoo over here. Sorry for an excessive amount of errors. I actually have two midterms tomorrow. And instead of studying or sleeping, I wrote this gem. **

**Irresponsible life decisions, right here.  
**

**Review please! If I get 100 reviews for this story, I will do a happy dance!**

* * *

The four parked at a motel for the night, splitting up Ellen and Jo in one room and Zapata and Paige in a second.

Zapata unbuttoned Paige's shirt, throwing it onto the floor as he inspected Paige's bruise. About the size of a basketball, it curled around her chest and instead of being layered and splotchy, it was an unsettling and fluid blue color.

Jo walked into the room and clicked the door shut behind her, sitting herself next to Zapata on her knees on the floor. Zapata ran his hand down his face.

"Did we just fuck up here? That is some _textbook _internal bleeding and I'm absolutely positive that she has a concussion. Can Loki heal this?"

"Loki?"

"Yeah, Paige's Trickster. You're going to summon him, right? This is more than a good night's rest can heal, Jo."

"Oh. Yeah. Right."

"Good." Said Zapata softly, "Good. What do you need for the summoning spell?"

"I need to you go away."

"What?"

"Loki's shy. Not really keen on people seeing him or knowing him. Take my mom with you, why don't you? Get supplies or food or something."

"I don't want to leave her."

"Well, tough shit." Said Jo, "Frankly Loki, or whatever, is a total prick. He likes Paige for some reason or another, but not enough to go out of his way to save her. The more people here, the less likely he is to show."

"You've actually met him then?"

"Wish I hadn't. But, yeah." Said Jo, rolling her eyes, "He's our best shot right now."

"You call me if he doesn't show. Call me if he does. Just call me, Ok? Call me if anything changes or doesn't change or…"

"I'm worried, too, Zapata" said Jo cutting off his rambling, but her voice was soft and sympathetic.

Once the door clicked shut behind Zapata, Jo turned to Paige on the bed and sat, cross legged at the head or the bed.

Paige had told her, on more than one occasion, that if Paige ever got hurt, Jo was to call Gabriel. Not the hospital, not Bobby, not Zapata. The problem was that they had never planned on Paige being out cold should the occasion to call him arise. Paige told her not to pray for him lest all the other angels hear it as well, and while Jo had about as much sympathy for Gabriel's family drama as she did for a demon, Jo acquiesced.

She remembered seeing something bronze glittering as Paige first summoned Gabriel in South Carolina. She checked Paige's pockets and pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills and some loose change.

Except one of the pennies was definitely not American. Jo felt it and was surprised at the warmth. It burned almost hot. Jo flipped the coin in the air and focused on Gabriel's name.

The room stayed silent.

Jo tried again, squinting her eyes shut as she focused on the archangel, mentally pleading with him to show his face. His stupid face with that obnoxious grin and annoyingly playful voice.

When nothing happened, Jo felt frustrated tears well up. Paige was hurt. Paige was hurt worse that Jo had ever seen her and Paige had been so good to Gabriel. And now, her friend was lying, unconscious on the bed. Paige had trusted him, which Jo had always known was stupid, but now that things had gotten intense, the archangel was MIA. Paige could die because Gabriel was busy. And she hated him for it.

"Oh, that explains it." Said Gabriel's voice behind her.

Jo flipped around to see the outline of the archangel in the shadows of the motel room.

"I was getting flashes of worry, annoyance and anger." Gabriel said, pointing to the coin in Jo's fist. "I thought Paige had a psychotic lapse. Nope. Just you."

Jo moved to give Gabriel a better view of Paige laid out on the bed. He let out a long suffering sigh, but crossed the room in a few paces, placing one of his hands against Paige's face, the other against her broken rib.

"What the fuck did you let her do?" he snapped.

"She's a hunter. I didn't _let _her do jack shit." Jo replied, matching his annoyed tone. He was just being a dick. He was less sneering and sarcastic than usual, Jo noted. He was also less… something. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing is wrong, I'm peachy keen to be here acting as your personal paramedic and absolutely ecstatic to see you glaring judgmentally at me again. I live for this shit"

Jo squinted at him, trying to put her finger on what was different about him.

Gabriel's vessel looked tired. She knew that his grace or essence or whatever it was that made Gabriel the sparking personality that stood before her,was older than she could fathom. However, the vessel he had chosen probably fell in the late thirty to early forty range, and for the first time that she could remember, he looked it. His hair lacked some of its previous shine and the tiny hints of crow's feet at the corners of his eyes cast shadows along his cheek.

"What is chasing you, Gabriel?" asked Jo. As Gabriel's shoulders fell, Jo knew that she had hit the truth.

"Should I list them alphabetically, chronologically or by magnitude of impending shitstorm?"

"What are you two talking about?" asked Paige.

Gabriel had been facing at Jo as he healed her, but only looked mildly surprised when Paige spoke. He stood again, giving Paige room to sit up and rub the exhaust from her eyes.

Jo resisted the urge to smooth her mussed hair and let the arm slide and then rest around her shoulders. Wearing Zapata's coat and sitting, cross legged on the king-sized motel bed, Paige somehow looked like a child and a very tired woman simultaneously.

After a moment of glancing between them, Gabriel seemed to reach some sort of unspoken conclusion and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"You've been hanging with Winchesters, haven't you?" he asked, aggravation laden in his voice. "_Why _would you do that? I thought the oldest one hated you anyways." He said, pointing his chin at Paige.

"Hey, we were knee deep in trying to stop the apocalypse, you baboon." Jo snapped defensively in Paige's place, "Where the hell were you?"

"A little town called 'not getting killed' that's where. It's just north of 'none of your damn business' and 'fuck off.'"

"Why?" asked Paige, with quiet concern, "Gabriel, are you OK? You look tired." Gabriel's face softened at Paige's tone, but he stayed standing rigid.

"Look, the angels are zeroed in with a _laser _fine focus on those Winchesters. They're the vessels. Remember how I told you that the war is between Heaven and Hell? Sunday school time; Lucifer rebelled for Heaven because he hated humanity. He waged a war against human kind and dedicated his existence to tempting and destroying human souls. My father sent the first Archangel, Michael, to stop him. So," said Gabriel, holding up two fingers, "two brothers, Michael and Lucifer. Sam and Dean. One good son, who follows his father's orders to the death, the second is skeptical and thinks there is a better way. Two archangels, two vessels." Gabriel paused and, seeing the unsurprised looks on Paige's and Jo's faces, he guessed that they had already heard as much. Gabriel continued,

"It would be so much easier if they weren't _hunters_. The ignorant are always so much more devout and obedient. But, probably since the Winchesters have seen the other side of the curtain, the two are putting up a real stint about it relinquishing the rights to their meat-suits."

"Well, why the hell should they just say, 'oh, alright, I'll just die now and let you kill my brother and the other half of the planet while you're at it'?" growled Jo, her tone hostile, "Just because they're angels doesn't mean that they're _good_. I'm with them. I say shove your little angel agenda up your ass with your father's prophecies. We can help the Winchesters, and it's no business of yours if we do."

The lights flickered and the sky darkened as Gabriel glared at Jo.

"Look, you ungrateful little bitch," he said in such a level and serious tone that it gave Jo chills, "This one" he pointed to Paige, "Is linked to me. Which means that when the angels find Sam and Dean, and they will, eventually, my head is going to be on the chopping block."

"That's not our fault." Snapped Jo. "And a whole lot of good being linked to you has done her—"

"Guys, stop." Paige pleaded in a small voice.

"Her son is _dead_. She's almost died at least twice. You show up out of the blue, sneer, tease and bully then disappear until you damn well feel like showing your face. Why weren't you paying attention? Why did I have to call you? You just leave her life on fucking auto pilot?"

"Jo, stop, guys, please,"

"Because I _hid _her from the angels, including me. Trust me, I give you a loose leash, which I'm regretting right now. But other angels… Me letting her walk and talk and live is a _blessing_. Most angels would lock her away until they needed her. Yeah, you think I'm bad? Wait till you meet them. I saved your life a couple times as well. _And _I hid you from my meddling siblings. You're welcome, by the way."

"Jesus, this is you being thoughtful? Please, god, don't ever do me _any_more favors."

Gabriel swallowed hard and directed his next words at Paige.

"Paige, I'm glad you're alive. If you want to stay that way, keep far, far away from Sam and Dean Winchester. If you stick too close to them while they're playing hard to get, you may fall onto the radar of a few angels less flexible than I am. Jo, it's been real." Gabriel turned to disappear when, as an after thought, he turned back to the two hunters.

"Look, the train's left the station. It's apocalypse now. Winchesters aren't doing _anyone _any favors. River Pass Colorado would still be standing if they had just said 'yes.' The longer that they draw this out, the worse it's going to get for everyone."

Gabriel disappeared before Jo could snarl her retort at him.

"Can you believe him?" she asked, venting her frustration to her friend, a mere second after he left "Ugh, if anything, this just makes me want to stop the apocalypse even more."

"He isn't doing it to be a jerk, Jo, he's scared."

"Don't tell me you're coming around to his side of thinking?" asked Jo, genuinely surprised that Paige seemed to sympathize with him, "He's so busy trying to save his own ass that he's willing to throw everyone else under the boat."

"You can't blame someone for wanting to stay alive."

"Watch me." Snapped Jo, "Are you going to ditch me now? Go join up with some angels and chase down the Winchesters? Make them say yes? Make them kill each other when it isn't even _their _war? Sam is sketchy, but he's always been anti-hell, pro-humanity. He doesn't deserve this."

"No, Jo. I'm still going to fight alongside you." Said Paige, but she was playing with the comforter on the bed. Paige always fidgeted when she wanted to say something but knew that it wouldn't be well received."

"But…?" asked Jo, annoyed by Paige's lack of indignation.

"But you didn't have to be a bitch about it."

Paige stood and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her, leaving Jo with her jaw on the floor and a sticky heavy feeling in her gut.

* * *

"Hey."

"Zapata?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Dean. Dean Winche—"

"Yeah, bro." said the voice on the other end of the line with a light laugh, "You really don't need to finish that. Apocalypse, world famous Winchester and all that jazz. "

"Oh, right." Said Dean with a nervous laugh.

"What's up, man?"

"Paige OK?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she's fine. I just left those three, they're heading north east, I'm heading north west. She's survived worse, trust me."

"Good."

"Wait, you really calling to check up on Paige? Rumor has it that you and her get along as well as oil and water."

"What? A hunter can't check up on another hunter without getting the third degree?"

"Didn't mean it like that, man. I just meant that it was surprising that that was why you called."

Dean was silent for a minute and Zapata didn't make any gesture to try and fill the silence over the phone line. Dean was grateful.

"Sammy left."

"Oh, wow. Sorry, Dean." There was silence for a few more minutes as Zapata appreciated the gravity of Dean's news. "How do you feel?"

"Lighter." Said Dean, sounding surprised himself. "Weird, being all by myself. Haven't hunted alone since before my old man passed, since Sammy's girl got killed and he started hunting with us again. So, quiet. But… I don't know where he is, or what he's doing, and I kind of feel free. For the first time I can remember, I'm not worrying about him. Cause he's a fucking adult."

"That's great, bro." Zapata sounded relieved to hear it, "I'm headed to Oregon right now, don't really have a solid lead but I've got an inkling. Where are you? Maybe we can meet for a beer or something."

"I'm headed to South Dakota, man, but thanks. It's kind of nice to be alone for once. Get used to it, you know?"

"Believe me, I know."

"Take care of yourself, man."

"You too. Glad to hear things are getting better. Call me up if you need anymore help thwarting the end of the world."

Dean laughed, "I'm probably gonna have to take you up on that."

* * *

Dean groaned as he saw Ellen's Jeep in the driveway of Bobby's place. If Ellen was here, than that meant that Paige was probably there as well. He hoped against hope that Ellen was just dropping by to see Bobby. He knew that they were something, or he had guessed as much seeing as Bobby was always disappearing for a few weeks at a time and coming back in a downright jolly mood.

And Bobby could really use some cheering up these days. Walking into his house was like walking into a big, sloppy, heaping mess of gloom and despair. Not that Dean could ever remember Bobby's house being cheery or homey, but Dean could always rely on Bobby to give a shit. When Sammy was too young and his Dad would tune him out or effectively (and sometimes outright) tell him to get over himself and kill some evil motherfuckers, Bobby had at least listened. The house wasn't exactly Martha Stewart, but it was a place with a sympathetic ear and cold beer. Zapata was great, but Bobby was family. And Dean would take some family where he got it.

But he had to mentally fortify himself at the prospect of having to be in close quarters with Paige. She was just… complicated. And it would be a shit fuck lot more convenient if she wasn't inexplicably linked to every important person in his life.

She was a person, and she had been through some shit, he could respect that. He could even overlooked the murder thing since, if he'd been in the same position, he'd have the exact same thing a long time ago.

But he'd seen about six different sides of Paige that night that they first met her and interrogated her in that motel room in Tucson. It was impressive. It was also really uncomfortable when he found out that pretty much everyone he knew trusted her. He didn't even _know _what the real Paige looked like and he sure as shit wasn't about to tell her his deep dark secrets. Of course she would show up when Dean needed to have a sappy heart to heart with the old man who meant so much to him. Of course she would be around when Dean wanted to bare his fucking soul.

Dean let himself in the front door, knowing that Bobby would be pissed if he had to expend the energy to roll over to the door and open it just for Dean.

"Hey." Dean yelled into the house, "Hey, Bobby? Ellen?"

"Hey, Dean." Said Ellen, smiling at him as she poked her head around the doorframe, "C'mon in. We already got a full house and plenty of food."

So, Paige was there. If anything convinced Dean that there was no God, this was it.

"So, how long have you guys been here?" asked Dean as he followed Ellen down the hall.

"Got here about three hours before you did. Small world, huh?"

Ellen entered the kitchen as she finished her statement and Dean looked around the cramped table, his eyes flicking over Paige.

"Absolutely miniscule."

Jo flashed him her usual teasing smile and he had a very small war with himself as he forced his eyes to not stare at the tiny spandex shorts and practically sheer white tank top she wore. No bra. Not that he noticed.

There were two open seats at the small table. One was between Bobby and Paige while the other was between Bobby and Jo. Dean plopped himself down next to Jo, sneaking a shamelessly pervy peek at the tiny rosebud nipples beneath her shirt. Awesome. That image would come in useful on his next lonely hunt if he couldn't find a decent dive bar with easy women. Women who didn't seem to pique his interest quite like they used to.

But that was a dilemma for a different day.

Dean regretted his seating decision a second after he made it. Sure, being nestled up to Jo was infinitely preferable to awkwardly bumping elbows with Paige, but sitting where he was at the round table, Paige was directly in his line of vision.

She didn't exactly seem stoked with his choice either, poking at her oatmeal and deliberately avoiding his eyes, even if it gave her the look of a twitchy drug addict.

"I've got bacon." Said Ellen, turning from the stove to the table, hot frying pan in her hand. "How many slices?"

Jo's mouth was full of egg but she held up five fingers. Ellen seemed unsurprised and slid the bacon onto Jo's plate. Dean let out a surprised chuckle and Jo raised her eyebrows at him.

"Same, thanks Ellen," said Dean as she dumped another five slices onto his plate.

Bobby looked expectantly up at Ellen, but she ignored him. Dean, Jo and Paige shared awkward looks as it became incredibly clear that Bobby and Ellen were having some kind of spat.

"And a cholesterol pill for you." Said Ellen stiffly, dropping the bottle next to Bobby's orange juice.

"What? You're making me eat like Paige, now?"

"Hey." Said Paige, defensively.

"That's right." Said Ellen flippantly as she started cutting into her grapefruit.

"What's wrong with eating like Paige?" asked Paige.

"Ugh, what's right with it?" asked Jo, but she was grinning like an idiot as she said it. Paige grinned back and the two sharing their joke made the whole room a little lighter. Ellen was still barely acknowledging Bobby, sitting stiffly next to her, but at least it was oppressively awkward like it had been.

"So, Dean. Got a hunt in the area?" asked Ellen.

"No, not really."

"Just checking up on the old coot?"

"Something like that."

Ellen looked right though him in that eerie way that she was wont to do. Dean knew that the fact that he was at Bobby's alone spoken volumes more than any words that he could say. So he took a bite of the eggs that Ellen had dumped on his plate.

"You gonna be sticking around for a little while?"

"I could." Said Dean with a shrug.

In all honesty, the idea of more blacktop, more motels, more silence was a little daunting. He never realized how much Sam was a very function of his identity. An extension of himself. Even when Sammy was silent, it was a comfort. It wasn't so much that Dean missed his brother as it was that he wasn't sure what to do with himself now that he was alone. It made him think about things that, as of late, he had really enjoyed not having time to think about.

"Good. Bobby's got a couple of cars in the yard that need to be tuned up. It'd be great if you could help us out—"

"Now that I'm useless at it, would you kids help me out with my business? Can't hunt. Can't work. Take some time out of your lives to help an old cripple, won't you?" Bobby spat suddenly.

The four other hunter at the table sat in scolded silence for the rest of breakfast, Bobby seething, he pushed his plate away from him.

* * *

After the world's least comfortable breakfast, Dean walked out into the salvage yard to fix up whatever he could for Bobby, even if the cranky old bastard wouldn't even appreciate it.

Cars were Dean's therapy. He didn't need any touchy feely kumbaya shit. He needed metal and oil and maybe some Metallica in the background.

People? People were complicated bags of emotional baggage and shitty experiences. Once you started poking around in there, things got messy. You pulled up things you never knew were there, and suddenly you've got, yet another, Dr. Phil session on your hands.

But cars? Dean could pop open an engine and see what was wrong with a look. He could replace a filter. He could change a transmission. He could fix a bumper and buff out a scratch and they were all things that could be accomplished with a little sweat. And you didn't have to think about anything besides the metal in your hands. And it was better than any hand holding circle of love or whatever crap new age types pulled out of their asses these days.

He saw Paige walking towards him out of the corner of his eye. If anyone could ruin his intimate car therapy time it was hunter walking towards him.

"Hey, Dean." She said, awkwardly.

"What's up?" he asked, not turning his full attention from the car just yet.

"Can you help me out?"

"You can just leave the car where it is. I'll get to it."

"I know how to fix it," she said, sounding defensive. Dean glanced over at her. "It just… it needs a new transmission. And… well, it's heavy."

"Gotcha."

"If you're busy… Jo can probably help me."

"I'm not too busy." Said Dean after a moment. Olive branches, right?

"Oh, ok." Said Paige actually sounding a little surprised by his cooperation.

"It's…over here…" she gestured stiffly behind her shoulder.

"Lead the way." Said Dean.

After a couple of more 'ums' Paige took him to the old Pinto that she was working on.

"So, I think that either Bobby stripped it or it came stripped. There is no old transmission, but here's the new one. Well, new-ish."

Dean gave a strained smile and lifted the transmission she pointed out, gently placing it under the car's hood. He let out a long exhale.

"That all?" he asked politely.

"Yeah." She said.

Dean gave a curt nod and turned back to finish the Trans Am that had become his project for the day.

"Wait, no." said Paige suddenly. Dean stopped and turned back to face her. Paige crossed her arms and looked at the ground for a moment, kicking some dirt with the toe of her sneakers. She hazarded a look back up at him and he raised his eyebrows impatiently. She took a fortifying breath.

"Can we talk about… you know?" she asked.

"Ummmm…"

"Look, I'm not really… It wasn't my proudest moment."

"Uh, no. Let's definitely not talk about this."

"It was just." Said Paige ignoring his protest and speaking quickly, as if hoping to dump her confession on him before he had a chance to get away. "I wish I could say that I was possessed. It'd be easier. But all I know is that I felt really scared. Really scared and mad at you guys because you made me scared."

Dean opened his mouth but Paige rushed onward before he had time to say anything.

"I get it. Especially now that I've been hunting for awhile. It was incredibly sketchy. I would probably do the same thing. I think I understood on some level back then, too, but I was the one tied up and vulnerable. I don't like feeling vulnerable."

Dean shifted his weight uncomfortably and focused on a point behind Paige's shoulder as she pretty much word raped him. He had said no, and here she was spewing her story on him. A story he really didn't want to hear, a memory he had very little interest in reliving.

"And, so, I guess it was adrenaline or something…" she said, "But there was just this part of me, a voice, I guess would be the best way to describe it… it told me that it could take over, help me get my revenge, help me be strong or cool or tough enough to go through with it. And it just kept saying, 'I can make this better, you just have to say yes.' Over and over again it said, 'I can make you strong. I can make them suffer. You just have to give over complete control to me. Just let go, I'll get you through this.'"

Dean's eyes snapped onto Paige's. She shuffled her feet again and looked down. Shyly. Dean realized that the real Paige was a little shy. And very awkward. And quite possibly a little naive.

"I mean, clearly that is some early form of schizophrenia and I should be medicated. But, it was like an out of body experience while I was doing that… to… you. I could see myself doing it. I could… feel… myself doing it. But at the same time, I didn't think those things I said. I didn't really consciously do those things I did. I know it's no excuse… but I want you to know… that I'm just crazy. I'm not a complete bitch." She offered up a smile at him.

Dean's brain was working on overdrive. That explained the mood swing. That explained the rapid healing of her gunshot.

"That sounds exactly like a possession." He said.

"It can't have been," said Paige, smiling sadly, "Since when do demons ask permission?"

_Demons don't_, thought Dean. _Angels do_.

* * *

_Tucson, AZ, 2005_

"Wha-" sputtered the painfully hard man tied to the bed behind her, "Bitch!"

Paige walked into the bathroom of the motel. She dropped the condom; still empty from poor Dean's lack of a happy ending, into the trash and wrinkled her nose slightly as the sticky reside of precum was lining it.

She looked up into the mirror and, almost experimentally, grazed a hand down her side, cupping her own breast before sliding downwards towards her hips, her fingers softly exploring the remaining wetness and light soreness between her legs. She cocked her head, almost curiously to the side as she continued to explore her own body with feather light touches.

"Mammals." She said after a moment, seemingly to no one, "So many fluids. No wonder they need such a wet planet. See how much they waste in the mere act of procreation."

"Get out of her." Said a man's voice behind her.

Paige looked up into the mirror to see the seething man that had suddenly appeared behind her. Her face broke into a small, calm smile but then resumed its serious expression.

"Gabriel," she said calmly as she turned.

"What do you think you're doing, Michael?"

"I believe it was you, actually, who started the trend of inhabiting a lover of your true vessel. Getting to know them- how does the phrase go?- between the sheets? It is one thing to watch your vessel. It is another to feel their hands against flesh. See their eyes filled with lust. Watching your vessel be human and feeling that vessel be human are two very different things."

"Don't you stand there and pretend that that is what is going on here." Snapped Gabriel, "You aren't that ignorant. She is the _bearer _of the prophet and you're using her as a sex toy? You don't see how _dangerous_ that is?"

"She will not conceive." said Michael calmly with a slight shrug. His statement was strengthened as Dean let out a sexually frustrated curse from the other side of the door. "Besides, why would you care if she did? I thought you no longer cared for father's plans. Where were you when you let the prophet die? Her son, her parents, would still be alive if you had been where you were supposed to be."

"I had abandoned my post _centuries _ago. There have been a dozen prophets between now and then. Where was Raphael? Where were the other angels?"

"Waiting for you."

"Bullshit." Growled Gabriel, "No one should have expected me to be there. No one should have let it get that far."

"But it did. 'and as she looked in despair of her fallen world, the angel Gabriel took her hand and pulled her to salvation.' That's written somewhere, isn't it?"

"So, it was all a game." said Gabriel slowly as he decided the true motives for his brother's actions, "You wanted my attention. She had to suffer so that you could prove a point."

"Yes." Said Michael, simply. "This little rebellion is very cute, but the war is coming and you need to come back home. I've been very generous, I think, for letting you go this long. But with you and Lucifer being so _close _before he fell… I want to be sure that your loyalties lie with your family."

"Lucifer is my family, too."

"So is that your decision?"

"Why? Going to kill me, brother?" asked Gabriel. A sad smile played at his lips. "Going to slide your blade into my heart after you slide it into Lucifer's?"

Michael took a step closer to Gabriel. The body of the young woman was a few inches shorter than him, but Gabriel was practically suffocated by Michael's menacing power.

"I am already prepared to kill one brother. Do you think I would hesitate to kill you too?"

"I can't pick a side. I can't. You know I won't go to Lucifer. Not all rebel angels are built the same, Michael. Raphael may not understand, but I know you do. He rebelled because he hated humanity, I rebelled…"

"Because you loved it." Michael concluded. "That was why you were always the most like our father."

"Don't flatter me."

"Don't underestimate his love for you." Said Michael, stepping back from Gabriel, "I was the loyal one. Lucifer was the beautiful one. Raphael was the reverent one, and you? You were always the one that was always the most like him."

Gabriel remained silent as he watched Michael reflect quietly.

"I will give you until Lilith's death, the final seal, to make your decision. You have to choose a side, Gabriel. If you are not with us, you are against us. If you are against us, I will end your life." He said it calmly, but power pulsated under every word.

"I still love you, brother." Said Gabriel softly, "But I love him, too. I can't… I can't stop what will come to pass, but I can't choose."

"You will have to, or you will die. You know that Lucifer will make you that same offer once he is risen. He may not be as tolerant as I. Be warned."

With a flash of light, Michael returned to heaven. The girl crumpled into herself, unconscious. Her organs had been working on overdrive just to survive. Her skin burned hot like a fire as it tried to contain Michael. Gabriel caught Paige as she fell forward, her body exhausted by the sheer effort of trying to contain the grace of the oldest and most powerful archangel.

His job, assigned by his father, had been to keep her safe. It was a job that he no longer wanted, but as he stroked the hair of the young woman, he thought vaguely about what Michael had said. He'd said that Gabriel was most like him.

Angels didn't know how to take care of humans. They knew how to keep them alive, but ultimately they didn't understand, or care, about anything else. His father had given him the job of looking after the humans, humans like the girl in his arms, because he knew that Gabriel couldn't be as ruthless as his siblings. Gabriel had seen humanity and he couldn't unsee it, for better or for worse.

"C'mon, pretty girl." Gabriel muttered, healing her as he held her upright, absently rubbing her back ,"Big plans for us… whether we want them or not."


	36. Chapter 36: Noble Things

**Hey kids,**

**I have some terrible news. Tragedy has struck. My laptop, with all 200 + pages of my fan fic (FUCKING BANANAS) is gone. He died and went to laptop heaven. Anyways, the style I write in is that I'll think up scenes, then weave my narrative around them. So, I had about 10 unpublished scenes on there! Trying to recover them but my new laptop... I bought for $300 at Walmart. So, you get what you pay for, I guess. **

**So, serious cliff hanger in the last chapter, right? Yeah. I know. I blew your mind. Good thing you had a week to recover. This chapter is just kind of... catching up... with our favorite flawed heroes. ****Yay! Castiel!**

** I admit, I had to do some research before I introduced his character. Basically, I was just watching season 4 and 5 on a loop for a day. It's a complex act to balance... the naievete with the pure power. The serious tone with the smattering of affection. The more I try to write his character, the more I'm sure that Misha Collins is just the world's best, least appreciated actor.**

** The man has played , 2. Jimmy Novak and 3. the Leviathan Thingy at the beginning of season 7. That 3 whole, clearly separate characters. THEN Castiel's character has evolved and changed so much since it was introduced. THEN he has to be super sexy. And he's just so good at all of it. **

**Don't worry, Collins. I'll get you that Emmy.**

**Anyways, read and please review! You have no idea how depressing my life is without your support. I have homework. It's terrible. **

* * *

The second the Gabriel saw the Winchester's personal, starry-eyed angel, trotting after the oldest one like a puppy, he should have cut his losses and gotten the Hell out of there. Castiel was a rebelled angel, sure. But he would be able to recognize Gabriel as what he was. That, and the fact that Gabriel had been playing with his little pets should have sent him running to the hills before Castiel could narc on him.

But he couldn't. He just couldn't. _These _men were the reason that he and Jakab were effectively in hiding. Michael had sicked Raphael on his trail and Lucifer had already sent a few troops of his demon cronies to hunt him down. Gabriel could outsmart demons easily. Raphael was a little trickier. His brother didn't exactly think outside box, but he was powerful enough to plow the entire damn thing over. Gabriel was tired of running. He was tired of hiding. He was Gabriel the fucking archangel, and he didn't hide from _anyone_.

So, just like Michael used to tell him it would, his pride got the better of him. He kept twisting the screws into the Winchesters, reveling in his own power. It felt _good_ to do this again. His brothers may have been hunting him down like he was the hare and they were the dogs, but this was his sand box. And he could make the Winchesters suffer like they made him.

Of course, that really came to bite him in the ass. The ring of Holy Fire burned, locking him in place. He wasn't dead, but he was hobbled. And that was inexplicably worse.

"So? What? You're just going to leave me here? " he shouted to their retreating backs.

"No." said Dean, turning to look at Gabriel over his shoulder, "because we don't mess with people like you do."

He slammed a fist into the fire alarm, causing emergency sprinklers to activate. He and his brother marched out of the warehouse. Castiel hesitated, giving Gabriel a slightly sad, slightly nervous look. Gabriel had other things to worry about than hunting Castiel down and making him suffer for humiliating him like this.

But Castiel was damn lucky that he did.

Castiel seemed to guess as much and followed his humans out the door. Gabriel sighed and waited for the sprinklers to do their magic and free him. After a few seconds, he started to get anxious. And Gabriel _hated _being anxious. The longer he stood still, the more likely Raphael or Lucifer would find him.

"What the _fuck_, Gabriel?" asked Paige as she appeared, stumbling and startled as she was pelted with sprinkler water. Gabriel simply waited for her to adjust to her new surroundings, glaring silently. Paige glanced up and saw the Holy Fire. Then she saw his expression and decided to tell him off later. "Oh, right." She said, stepping forward and stomping on the flames.

"You gonna tell me what's up?" she asked, as he stepped outside the ring. She gauged his seething stance and shrugged at his silence, unsurprised at his secrecy.

"Cat's out of the bag." Said Gabriel.

"Oh, well. I'm sorry, Gabriel." Said Paige, gently. Her hair was beginning to plaster to her face and her clothes clung to her body as they grew heavy with the weight of the water. " Who figured you out?"

"Winchesters."

"And to think, you would have gotten away with it if it hadn't been for those meddling Winchesters."

"Are you trying to be funny? Right now? Do you _want _to rid your head of your body?"

"Well, c'mon, Gabriel. It could have been worse." Paige placated. Gabriel gave a snort of disagreement. "They're running from your brothers, just like you. They won't rat you out. Oh, you didn't think that I'd guess you were running from your siblings?" she asked Gabriel's narrowed , suspicious eyes. "You always said that you dreaded watching your family tear itself apart. You're so powerful, Gabriel. If I were your brothers,and I was about to start a civil war, I'd want you on my side… Or I'd want you dead, so you couldn't be on theirs."

The look that Gabriel gave Paige was one of pure surprise.

"Well, anyways." Said Gabriel, recovering, "Let's get you back—"

Gabriel froze as he looked over Paige's head. Paige looked behind her and, upon seeing the other angel, took an instinctive step closer to Gabriel.

Castiel stood awkwardly before the two, a blanket in his hands. His eyes lingered on Paige and she turned pink as she squirmed under his gaze.

"Catch you later," said Gabriel as he touched Paige's arm with a finger. Before Paige could do more than give him a nervously questioning look, she was gone.

"So, Castiel," asked Gabriel, "Come to finish me off or do you have a death wish?"

"I was going to put out some of the fire… clearly, that is unnecessary. I didn't realize that you would have a human to help you."

"I could kill you, brother."

"I suppose you could."

"I ought to, you know. After this," Gabriel gestured to the scorch marks, "And, after what you did to Anna."

"You're right." said Castiel slowly, looking guiltily at the ground, "I regret doing that to her everyday. I regret so many of my actions... I'm sorry, I forgot how close you two were."

"Close?" asked Gabriel, dangerously soft, "I was the one who pulled her Grace out for her, after all."

"I'm just… so sorry. So sorry for everything I did. Everything I thought was right. I'm just so sorry. All the time, I'm sorry."

Castiel's sad vulnerability made Gabriel, against his better judgment, sigh and drop his shoulders. He had rebelled once, too. The first century was always the hardest. And here was his brother, blanket clutched in his hand, coming to release Gabriel from the Holy Fire even when all odds pointed to Gabriel tossing him around like a bean bag the second he got out. Gabriel sighed again. Why, oh why, was he cursed with this empathy?

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Gabriel, every inflection of his voice begging Castiel to say 'no.' Castiel shook his head. Hallelujah.

"What would that accomplish?" he asked, flatly.

"Nothing I can think of."

Castiel nodded and made to fly away, no doubt to his to unrequited love, when Gabriel spoke again.

"If you ever change your mind," he said, "You know where to find me."

* * *

Paige appeared suddenly back in the room that she and Jo were sharing. Jo was standing with her arms crossed, like a mother who was about to scold a troublesome child. She was practically tapping her foot impatiently.

Paige let out a small gasp as she materialized and almost instantly started shivering in the cold cabin.

"What? Did he take you to Niagara Falls?" asked Jo, exasperatedly. She turned and ran into the bathroom and grabbed a towel anyways. When she returned, Paige was peeling off wet layers. When she was down to her underwear, Jo wrapped the towel around her and silently willed her to stop shaking.

They were in one of Rufus' cabins in Vermont, having just knocked out a Jinn in the area. It had been a mercifully good hunt, Jo reckoned. No serious injuries and no angels. Pretty much the best that she could expect, now that it was end of days and all.

Well, there hadn't been any angels until stupid Gabriel came and snatched poor Paige while they were on their way back from the grocery store. Paige generally grew exhausted by diners and drive ins and wanted to take advantage of a night between hunts to eat what she called "real food" but what Jo categorized as "leafy green shit that didn't taste as good."

Jo had practically run headlong into oncoming traffic when she looked over and Paige was gone, knocking most of their dinner supplies onto the floor.

"What a dick," Jo said, but tenderly as she tried to dry Paige's long hair. It was just plain _hard _to keep being mad when Paige's teeth were chattering. Jo led Paige over to where she had started a fire and dropped Paige in front of it.

"Do you think we could risk a hair dryer?" she asked Paige, over her shoulder as she dug through her bag.

"We blew a fuse just plugging in the space heater," Paige reminded her, "I'm thinking, 'no.'"

Jo grunted her agreement and returned to the fireplace with a big blanket and a hairbrush and some rubber bands. After wrapping Paige up like a very fluffy burrito, Jo pulled a chair over and sat Paige against her legs as she started to brush out the long dark hair.

Paige sighed and leaned back into it, her eye closing in contentment as she let Jo's fingers work through the knots and tangles with all the care and precision of a woman disarming a bomb.

"Winchesters know Gabriel's true identity." Paige said into the silence.

"About time. I'm just getting confused about who knows what about him." Said Jo, shaking her head.

"We were the only ones who knew he was an archangel until about an hour ago, I guess." Said Paige, "Besides his boyfriend, I suppose."

"Boyfriend? Didn't see _that _coming," said Jo with a smile. Paige smiled.

"Life partner, I guess?" corrected Paige, "Yeah. He's bi. Just like you." She reached behind her and patted Jo on the knee.

The fingers running through her hair froze in place.

"Who told you that?" asked Jo. "I never told you that."

"Yes you did. Oh, wait… that was in—"

"Seattle." Jo finished for her. "How did you know it wasn't just the bacchanae talking?"

"I don't know. I just never questioned it, I guess." Said Paige. She turned and looked at Jo over her shoulder, concerned, "I'm sorry. Did…did you not want people to know?"

"I guess it doesn't matter now." Said Jo. She returned to her task, though with a little less care than before. After a few more minutes she got up and marched into the kitchen. Rubbing her nose and willing her eyes not to water. With her back turned to Paige, she called out, "So, most of the stuff fell on the floor of the car. I sort of overreacted to you vanishing on me. I think we still have peanut butter and bread, if you're hungry."

Paige stood and followed Jo to the kitchen.

"Are you mad at me?" asked Paige.

And, Jesus, wouldn't that just be the easiest thing _ever? _If Jo could get mad at Paige instead of wanting to hold her and touch her and kiss her whenever she was within arm's reach? If Jo could yell and fume instead of just conceding every argument and giving Paige everything that she wanted?

So she had known the whole time.

Sometimes Jo, late at night, wrapped against Paige and touching her skin so hesitantly,Jo would reason that Paige thought she was straight. Maybe, once Paige found out that she was a little gay, Paige would tell her that _she _ was a little gay and they could fall into each other's arms and do some _very _gay stuff together. Then, it had always been a wild fantasy. Now it was just a pipe dream. And shit, it _wasn't fair_.

"Just you and your secrets, Paige," Jo snapped instead of saying that she wanted her. "Sometimes I wonder how we can work together when I feel like half of what you tell me is a lie." Jo said, instead of telling her that she couldn't imagine being with anyone else.

Paige didn't get defensive, because Paige never got defensive. Dismissive, yeah. Defensive, not so much. But Jo needed Paige to get mad. She needed Paige to yell or stomp and call Jo out on her shit. Because Jo was just _full_ of it. She was hollow, knowing that Paige knew how she was and just didn't feel the same way. So she filled herself up with anger and flip remarks so that way Paige couldn't see how pathetic she was. So that Paige couldn't see that Jo was broken, and it was nobody but Jo's fault.

"I didn't think about it like that." Said Paige softly, "I didn't think… you're right. You're right, Jo. I should have told you. It was my fuck up, I'm sorry."

Why did she have to go and do that? Paige just didn't fight fair, sometimes.

"I'm sorry." Said Jo. "I'm sorry."

Paige opened up her arms, moving the blankets around her shoulders. Opening herself up to Jo, like some sort of awkward bat but there was such sincerity in her eyes that it wasn't even funny as much as heart breaking. Because Paige was inviting her in. She was ushering Jo into the comfort of her arms, but not her lips or her legs. Jo was so close and yet a million miles away from where she wanted to be.

She must have walked into Paige with more intensity than she meant to, because Paige accepted her with a surprised sound. And Jo forced herself to be happy with this. To be happy with intimacy and affection and love. That's what real, adult, serious relationships were, after all, right? Best friends who cuddled and whispered and loved each other more than anyone else in the world. Sex? Jo could live without sex.

Jo couldn't live without Paige.

They fell asleep in front of the fire, Paige lying closest to the flames since she was the one who was wet, after all. Jo awoke to dying embers and Paige, rolled so that she was facing her. Jo began to slide out of the blankets to throw another log on when Paige sensed her movement and slid a hand over Jo's hip. And every fiber of Jo was screaming to _do _something. Even if it was stupid.

So, Jo leaned forwards and placed a kiss as gentle as a butterfly landing on a flower petal on Paige's lips, because her mother always told her that wherever she went, a whole lotta bad ideas were bound to follow.

"Joh—don lea." She murmured sleepily.

A little part of Jo hoped that she was saying, "Jo, don't leave."

A cynical part of her realized that Paige was saying, "John, don't leave." And Jo's heart broke all over again as she stood to get another log for the fire.

* * *

Ellen was in the kitchen, silently fuming, again. Or, probably, "still" would be the better word for it. She was_ still_ fuming. It had been four days since she had driven up to his house with Jo and Paige in tow and the second she laid eyes on him, her face turned to stone.

"Hey, old bastard," being yelled into the foryer of his house, as she walked in the door, were the last affectionate words that she had said to him. No one could do silent grudge quite like Ellen could.

"Dinner." She stated more than invited. Reluctantly, Bobby wheeled his way over to the kitchen. She dropped his plate, salad with almonds on top, in front of him and sat down with a beer for herself. Bobby looked longingly at it in her hand before turning his attention back to his plate. Wordlessly, Ellen handed him her beer and stood to get another for herself.

"Thanks." Bobby said, gratefully.

Ellen gave him a look that said she wasn't ready to talk yet, and Bobby fell silent, his attention on the dinner in front of him.

Later that night, Ellen retired to the master bedroom upstairs and Bobby had climbed into the twin bed that Sam and Dean had moved downstairs for him. He lay in the same position he always laid in, lest he want to spend fifteen minutes adjusting his weight. He sighed, getting ready to fall asleep when he heard Ellen's surprisingly quiet footsteps on the stairs.

He saw her outline as the side of his bed depressed under her weight. She let out a small sniff, and Bobby realized that she was crying. He placed a hand on her back.

"Why wouldn't you tell me, Bobby?" she whispered, her voice broken. "You don't give me a phone call? I didn't even know you were in the hospital. I just show up? And…" Ellen gave another silent sob.

"I thought we loved each other, Bobby. I thought it was the big league. I didn't know that you just meant that you loved me for that weekend, or that hunt or whatever we happened to be doin when you got yourself a little itch you couldn't scratch."

"Oh, Ellen. It was never like that. You know it wasn't never like that." Bobby murmured, heat building behind his own eyes, "Oh, I do love you. I love you so much, I… I didn't want you to give up your life for me. Your hunt? Jo? How could I ask you to do that when…" Bobby's voice grew thin, "When I'm useless to you."

"Bobby Singer, you couldn't be useless if you tried. You're the smartest, warmest, best old drunk I ever met."

"That ain't what I meant." Said Bobby, softly and angrily. Ellen looked at Bobby for a long minute before she smacked the back of his head. "Jesus, woman!" He yelped, startled, as he rubbed the point of contact.

"Damnit, Singer." Growled Ellen, "You really think that a _dick_ means jack squat to me?"

"Well, it oughta." He retorted, "How could I ask you to be here for me if I couldn't even give you the one thing that a man should be able to give a woman."

"A flacid cock don't make you less of a man, Bobby."

"Quit talking about it. Quit _saying_ it."

"Cock, dick, pecker, penis," snapped Ellen. "Don't you know there are things you can do about it? Pills? Shots? Hell, even a penis pump—"

"I'm not _touching _a penis pump." Said Bobby, loudly, "It ain't going to be like that…" he trailed off, his shoulders slumping. "I don't want… that… between us. I don't want to be trying to make love to you and have to stop to pull out a _penis pump_. I'm half a man, Ellen. I'm only half a man and I can only give you half a life. I can't make you settle for that."

"Don't I get a say?" asked Ellen, softly, the tears returning. "Don't I get a say in how I live and how we are intimate together?"

Bobby had already had this conversation multiple times in his head. In each scenario, he was the noble one. He was the one who told Ellen to go live a long and fulfilled life with someone else. Some she could screw and take walks with. Not someone she would spent the rest of her life taking care of. Not someone who would need ramps, and reachers and help doing the most basic human functions. In his head, it had been heartbreaking to let her go, be he had done it. He loved her, and damn if he was going to make her settle for this drunken cripple slob.

But now, she was crying and he didn't want to be alone. He had never wanted to be alone. He touched her cheek and felt wetness. That was what did him in.

"Of course you do. Of course, Ellen. I've always needed you. I've always wanted…" Someone who didn't know Bobby Singer might have accused that man, in the twin bed with the wheelchair to the side and the perfect woman in his arms, of crying, "I'm sorry I'm so fucked up. I'm sorry I ain't right for you. I love you so much. I want you to be—"

His profession was cut off with a kiss. Ellen found the words he could never articulate with her touches. She heard the emotions he could never bring himself to confess with her fingers. And Ellen was kissing him hard and mad and loving all at once.

"You're still a man, Bobby." Ellen murmured, "You're still my man."

Bobby's fingers found the front of her pants and she gasped as he took her, as he claimed her again. As he worked her with his hand, he somehow proved to himself that he could still do it. That he still deserved her. As he wrung the orgasm from her lips, he met them.


	37. Chapter 37: Embrace all Hope

Castiel took a moment to study the apartment he landed in. Cold and austere, with geometric furniture in severe white or black. Castiel looked at the couch for a long minute as he considered, once again, the peculiarities of his brother. Couches were so… human… angels needed no rest. The apartment held the lingering smell of food. Angels had no need for the energy that calories and fat provided. He decided, in that moment , that he would never, ever understand Gabriel.

"Castiel." Said his brother, choosing that moment to appear next to him, "What are you doing here?"

"You said I could visit, should I want to."

"I didn't think you _would_." Said Gabriel, rolling his eyes in yet another human gesture that Castiel could barely fathom. Gabriel's shoulders sagged and he gave Castiel an almost sympathetic look, "Human society runs on little lies like that. People often say things to be nice or because it is expected without any real expectation to follow through with it."

Castiel felt a stab of annoyance alongside his embarrassment. He had been on Earth and cast out of Heaven for his friends. His human friends. He was not _so _ignorant of their customs.

"I am not human," Castiel bristled, "I did not expect to be treated as such. If my presence is, in fact, unwanted, I will not burden you any longer."

Gabriel reached out and grabbed Castiel before he could vanish with what little dignity he had left. He wasn't sure why, but Castiel felt that it was very important to have the final word. Had it been any angel besides Gabriel, Castiel would be able to shake him off and vanish in his righteous huff. However, it was Gabriel and Gabriel held his celestial intent with ease.

"The fault is mine, Castiel," said Gabriel gently, though Castiel saw an infuriating flash of amusement behind his gaze, "Forgive me, it has been a long time since I have been amongst our brothers. Humanity has been my company for many centuries." Gabriel read his expression easily and gave a sad smile, "I miss them." He said softly, "Every day, I miss them. You do too. I think that maybe that is why you came to me? It never gets easier, brother, you just get used to it."

Castiel wasn't sure that he wanted to hear that. It had been months, mere months, since he had been cast out and it took almost half of his energy to not go running back into their ranks. Often Castiel felt that he was drowning, but were he actually being swallowed by the sea, he would at least be moving. The ocean would swallow him and he couldn't help but feel that being prisoner to the waves and tides would be preferable to the stillness and silence of human existence. At least in the sea, he would have the current to fight with. In the silence, he only fought with himself. Doubt, Castiel was realizing, was a more fearsome force than any other act of nature or God.

"They will see my way soon enough," said Castiel, "They will see that we need no more bloodshed and war. We do not have to follow the prophecy. They'll see."

"I can only hope you are right, Castiel." Said Gabriel, and once again, Castiel bristled under his half smile, as though Gabriel were humoring a child .Gabriel let out an actual snicker of laughter at Castiel's reaction.

"Come, brother," said Gabriel, walking towards the kitchen. Castiel met him there, relishing in Gabriel's company to use his angelic powers without restraint. Being human was so confining and slow. A million little gestures he had to force himself to go through to humor them. Gabriel didn't seem surprised, but amused, at Castiel. He narrowed his eyes as he looked Castiel over. "Tell me about Jimmy."

"My vessel?" asked Castiel, taken aback. He had not really thought of Jimmy since the salesman's soul had been sent to heaven, giving complete control of the body to Castiel. Castiel found that it was an excruciatingly intimate question.

"Yes, your vessel." Said Gabriel. "Jimmy Novak of Pontiac Illinois. Tell me about him."

Castiel hesitated. In a sense, he was Jimmy and Jimmy was him. The clothes, the hair, the body of the thirty eight year old man was almost as much a part of Castiel's identity as anything else. Angels were identical, told only apart by the frequency of their tone and the power of Angels, of brothers, to recognize each other. But when an Angel was in his vessel… he was distinguishable from the others for the first time. To pretend that that sort of uniqueness, that comfort, didn't affect the Angel would be a fallacy. Castiel knew Jimmy so intimately it was almost obscene. Every guilty thought, every disgusting human function, every memory was Castiel's. And, though many angels claimed that humans were too finite to really understand and Angel, Castiel thought that Jimmy knew him too.

"Would you like to hear about my vessel first?" asked Gabriel. "Meet Yaropolk" he said, holding his aplms out to his sides as he prented his vessel to Castiel."The third son of the second wife of a Kievan prince. He had few prospects; his father had four wives and twenty children. Yaropolk had never learned to read, but the Greek orthodox priest had a smooth voice. He never understood the words, but he liked them nonetheless, so Yaropolk joined the clergy. He liked peach preservatives, rare as they were in his time, and his horse, Svitva. He was simple and devout and I needed a new vessel. I had just killed Loki, the true Loki, and eaten his power, but I was vulnerable in my celestial state. I needed a body that looked the part of my new Scandinavian identity. I promised to take care of Svitva until the day he died a peaceful death at an old age. Yaropolk gave me his body."

"He is very old." Remarked Castiel, needlessly. The vessel had walked the same beach with the Vikings and the Nazis.

"And there are still bits of him that linger. No full thoughts. No desire for his body back. A craving for peach jam. A desire to feel warm fur beneath his fingers, especially soft brown horse hair. What does Jimmy desire?"

"Jimmy is no longer in this body. He is gone."

"He's never truly gone, Castiel. You know that."

Castiel thought for a moment then smiled with an ease that he couldn't take full credit for. It was a reflex, almost, as the thought struck him.

"Cheeseburgers." He said, "Jimmy really, really likes cheeseburgers."

Gabriel looked over Castiel's shoulder to the kitchen table behind him. As Castiel followed his gaze, his mouth automatically watered. Another reflex, but this one was less welcome. It was almost desperate in its neediness. It was chaos and Castiel hated how it consumed his entire attention.

A mountain of cheese and meat on the table met his gaze as Gabriel materialized his desires.

"Go ahead and take one" said Gabriel, grinning maliciously as he watched Castiel fight himself, "I can hear him, crying out for it. Echoes of Jimmy's soul asking for one small little treat."

"I don't require food." Said Castiel, still unable to tear his eyes away from the ocean of smell, the river of cheese, oozing down each and every burger."I am infinite."

"Jimmy wants one. Just one. Treat your vessel, Castiel. You too shall be rewarded."

Castiel swallowed hard and stood still for another minute, then relinquished what little control he had as he seized a burger from the tray. It was gone is four of the most satisfying bites Castiel had ever experienced. He didn't hesitate before grabbing a second, then a third.

"You never indulge little Jimmy, do you?" asked Gabriel as he watched Castiel mechanically eat burger after burger, not even pausing to finish swallowing before another followed the same path. Finally, Castiel seemed to decide he had eaten enough as he chewed largely, shaking his head at Gabriel's question.

"You don't feed him, clearly. What about sex?"

Castiel's eyes grew wide and he had to try twice to swallow the last lump of burger in his throat.

"I'll take that as a 'no.'" guessed Gabriel. He gave Castiel a wicked grin as they both heard footsteps behind them, down the narrow hall of the apartment. Castiel watched in surprise as a man entered the room, looking curiously between the two angels.

"Gabriel?" he asked, his eyes going to Castiel as he wordlessly asked for explanation..

"Jakab, this is my brother, Cas." Said Gabriel, his eyes never leaving Castiel's.

Jakab looked between the angels, clearly looking for some sort of family resemblance. Finding none, his face hardened into one of jealousy, if Castiel was reading him right, and Castiel thought he was getting very good at reading humans, if he did say so himself.

"We are both angels of the lord." Said Castiel simply.

He watched Jakab's face register the now familiar look he gor from people once he started talking. When he was silent, he knew that he could pass for simply odd or awkward. Once he started talking, though, humans gave a flash of something different from sympathy or even the occasional bit of attraction Castiel caught every once and a while. It was only a second, at most. Usually, Castiel was pretty sure that the emotion went through them so quickly that even the humans didn't always register it, but it was there. A knee jerk reaction to being confronted with something that they knew, deep in some primal part of their brain, wasn't human.

Jakab looked to Gabriel who shrugged.

"Vell," said Jakab, "I vill let you… catch up."

Jakab was out of earshot when Castiel turned to Gabriel.

"Yours." He said levelly, not truly needing a confirmation.

"Mine." Replied Gabriel, smiling proudly "But, I have always been good about sharing my toys if you want your cherry popped."

"Is it really that simple? Is that really all there is to is? Something to be done?" asked Castiel softly, then he wished he hadn't said anything as Gabriel started looking at him with a much more intense scrutiny than before.

"So, you've thought about having sex, then." Said Gabriel, grinning, "I'm so proud. Many angels think they're too good for it. Raphael wouldn't have sex with a human if all of Heaven depended on it. He thinks that it's disgusting and smelly, but hey, Michael isn't too good for it. You ever see his set up in Rome? Teenage boys _everywhere_. First time I ever visited him there, I thought I had stepped into a bath house."

Castiel opened and closed his mouth a few times before being able to find the words.

"I have… considered it." Castiel admitted, hoping that his vessel didn't turn pink like he had watched so many other humans do, "I understand the logistics of it… but to watch it from afar, it simply looks like rubbing together, undignified and dirty. But, there is centuries and centuries of poetry surrounding it. And art. And then sometimes I feel…"

"Oh ho, _sometimes_," laughed Gabriel, "You little horn dog. You got a type or something?"

"Your lover is a male." Said Castiel abruptly.

"Yes. Yes he is, but we angels have no gender. You know that. We aren't gay or straight. We simply are."

"But it matters to them." Said Castiel, "It matters to the humans, very much."

"I know, isn't it exhausting? Remember the harems of Ankara, when it was just a sex party all day long? Everyone was doing everything with everyone. Simpler times." Said Gabriel, shrugging wistfully. When Castiel didn't reply and instead looked down at his hands clasped in his lap, Gabriel reached over and patted his shoulder. It was a human gesture and Castiel was a bit surprised by the contact.

"You know, Jakab never used to think that he could be with a man." Said Gabriel conversationally, "And now? He loves me. I love him. We have some rocking, hardcore porn worthy sex. They change. They always act like they'll never, ever grow out of it and they'll be the same till they die, but they do. They change their mind and they realize that that kind of stuff doesn't matter so much."

Castiel seemed comforted by that and he grinned up at Gabriel broadly before reaching for another hamburger.

* * *

"Could you stop twitching?" Paige whispered to Dean as he tapped his foot nervously against the ground where they stood, hiding behind a tree just outside of the anti-angel mansion of the demon Crowley.

"I'm not twitching." Snapped Dean, but his foot finally stilled as they waited for Jo to loop back around to the front of the house, playing sexy bait as she generally did so well.

Paige's hands were getting sweaty as she nervously waited for Jo to put herself, all alone, in harm's way. Jo was a hunter, she reminded herself over and over, Jo was a hunter and could be bait without hurting herself.

Paige just hated being separated from her partner for more than a minute, especially if that partner was walking right up to Fort Demon and marching on in. Alone.

"Whose twitching now?" snapped Dean.

"Right, sorry." Whispered Paige, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. At that moment, Jo turned the corner of the driveway like a model on the catwalk, giving a playful wink in the general direction of Paige and Dean just before she stepped into the sight of the security cameras Sam and Paige had mapped out around the building.

Paige had to swallow a laugh as she saw Jo flirt before she realized that Jo was probably flirting with Dean. Paige wasn't blind. It was pretty obvious that Jo had a crush on him. Paige resisted the urge to give Dean a solid kick in the shins, reminding herself that they were on the same team here.

Paige saw Sam scoot closer to the gate while still staying outside the view of the demons and cameras. Paige and Dean gave each other a nod before they followed suit, Paige pulling the green canvas bag more securely onto her shoulder. Paige saw Sam slip inside the fence, then followed him while Dean brought up the rear, covering their backs.

"I think I'll go wait by my car." Said Jo, nervously to the security guard.

"You ain't going anywhere," said the blonde demon said, grabbing Jo's shoulder.

In a practiced move, the petite hunter slit his neck with her father's knife that she kept strapped between her legs so it wouldn't rumple her dress. Sam stepped forward with the Winchester's knife and slit the dark haired demon's neck.

Jo gave the blonde demon a stilettoed kick in the head before Sam stepped forward and expertly drove the knife into his chin.

As Sam stood, Paige handed Jo the bag where Jo quickly withdrew a warm coat and pair of jeans, tugging them on with a complete lack of embarrassment that only Jo could possess.

"Nice work, Jo." Said Dean.

"Thanks," said Jo, unclipping her hair from the barrette and shaking the blonde curls loose.

"That's a nice tattoo you got too," Dean said lowly, though Paige and Sam rolled their eyes at each other as they heard him. "Do I ever get to see the rest of it?"

"Can we go, please?" asked Jo in an annoyed voice that reminded Paige of Ellen. Snappish and cold but completely out of sync with the warm and lively glint in her eyes at his attention.

Dean grinned and stepped away.

"C'mon, Jo," said Paige pulling the wire clippers out from her duffle bag and pulling her away from Dean.

* * *

"So" said Castiel seriously, watching as Ellen laid out the shot glasses in front of him, "We just drink until we can't drink anymore?"

Castiel could have been watching a chess match for all the somber concentration he gave Ellen as she worked.

"That's the idea, big boy." Said Ellen, grinning at him, "You think you can take on an old bar maid like me? Gotta whole lifetime of practice under my belt."

Castiel glanced around the room at the hunters, looking a little nervous and exhilarated to be included in their game. As Castiel looked over at Dean, he seemed to relax. Dean was simply watching him, looking up from the books and papers he had spread out on Bobby's desk before him and Dean gave the most imperceptible of smiles. If it hadn't been Sam who was watching him, it could have easily gone unnoticed.

Sam had seen that smile when Dean had thought the Sam said something funny in an argument against their Dad but didn't want to be dragged into the verbal brawl himself. It was a smile he flashed when they were younger and Dean was acting like the protective big brother and not giving into Sam's childish demands. It was a smile that betrayed affection. Real, true, unconditional affection and it was rarer than the broad grin he would give strippers and waitresses when he was trying to get them on their knees or on their backs.

Sam noticed it and Castiel noticed it, because for all his formal vocabulary and stiff movements, Cas never missed a single finite detail. Especially when that detail was Dean. Cas straightened up a little under Dean's private smile.

"I believe I will be more than capable." Said Castiel seating himself across from Ellen.

"Oh, watch out Mom," said Jo, smirking at Castiel around a beer bottle, "I think that's Angel trash talk."

Ellen rolled her eyes and started measuring out shots of tequila. As Ellen worked, Sam got up from the couch facing the table to go the fridge for a beer. Holding the chilled bottle in his hand, he cast around for a bottle opener. Paige had been standing next to him, her attention on Castiel and Ellen. When she saw his wordless search she joined him, finally finding it on the floor.

Sam nodded his thanks to Paige as he opened his bottle, joining her with his back against the kitchen counter as they watched the spectacle in front of them.

"No tequila for you, then?" she asked, nodding over to the table.

"No," Sam laughed, "No, no, no, no no."

"C'mon, last night on Earth and all."

"Exactly, I don't want to spend my last morning on Earth leaning over a toilet bowl."

Paige chuckled and they fell into an easy silence. It was funny how near death experiences made people closer. Sam had never talked to Paige, laughed with Paige, and leaning against the counter with her, it felt so natural.

"You're staring again," said Paige, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

"You're not in love with Zapata?" Sam asked for a second time.

"Am I drinking with a hunter or a seventh grade girl?"

"Hey, if you can't talk about love the night before you bite the dust, when can you talk about it?"

"No, I like Zapata, I do. He's a great guy… but love? Not really. Not now, anyways."

"You love someone." Said Sam simply, furrowing his brow as he thought. He turned so that he was facing her, hiding his moving lips from his brother, "It isn't Dean, is it?"

"Jesus, no. Gross."

"Who's the seventh grader now?"

"No, it isn't Dean." She said with a small shudder. "Can we drop this, please? It doesn't make a difference. It's not… it's not that simple and even if it was, there's too much at risk… so I put it in a box and I put that box in the back of my mind and I never think about it. Ever."

"Got a lot of boxes back there?" asked Sam.

Paige gave him a strange look.

"Don't we all?" she asked softly, peeling the label on her beer.

"Look, we could all die tomorrow. In fact, we probably all will die tomorrow. What if you die and they never knew?"

"Sam."

"Yeah?"

"Why do you care?"

"Not all of us are lucky enough to feel the way you do Paige." He said, smiling down at her, "Don't you ever forget that it's precious. It hurts. It hurts like a bitch but when it's good… nothing else compares. And when it's gone… it's gone forever and you aren't whole anymore."

Sam gave her a pat on the back as she chewed over his words and went to join his brother staring at the papers in front of him.

* * *

Paige wandered over to the table where Castiel and Ellen sat, laughing with Jo as Castiel easily finished his seven shots and calmly looked forwards to them again.

"How ya feeling, Cas?" asked Jo, eyeing the angel with amused interest. Paige took a long pull of her beer as she looked away. Jo was being an extra flirt and Castiel the Angel was shamelessly good looking. Castiel seemed unaffected by Jo's grin, but looked proudly over his shoulder for Dean's approval. Dean was deep in discussion with Sam, so Castiel looked back to the woman facing him.

"Round two?" asked Ellen and Jo almost choked on her beer as she snorted with laughter.

"Maybe you should leave the drinking games to the seraphs," Paige said with a grin as Jo tried to recover.

"Fuck that," said Jo, taking one of Castiel's shot glasses from in front of him, "End of the world, I'm going out plastered."

"Paige Meredith Garcia is taking a tequila shot with me," announced Jo, as she poured tequila into the empty glasses. "The 'seraph' can have one too," said Jo, handing Castiel the third shot glass she measured out.

"To our last chance for bad decisions," said Jo, holding her shot glass high. Paige laughed and met hers with a light clink of delicate glass against delicate glass. After a moment's hesitation, Castiel joined them.

Paige winced at the bite of the tequila, and reached for Jo's beer, knowing hers was empty. She let out a small grumble as Jo's bottle was empty as well.

"Fuck, no chaser." She winced, her throat still recovering from the dry lava trickling down.

"I got ya," said Jo as she stood to get Paige a beer.

"Speaking of bad ideas," Paige grumbled as she saw Dean follow Jo into the kitchen and eye fuck her as she bent down to get the beer. The whole room, besides Castiel, looked politely away as Dean put the moves on Jo.

Paige sighed, she had been waiting for that particular train wreck all night. Dean was always hovering around Jo, looking at her like she was the last slice of pie in the diner. And Jo was always a little bit brighter when Dean was looking at her. Her voice a little bit higher, her movements with a little more bounce.

She felt glass nudge against her wrist and looked down to see that Castiel had poured out a second shot for her and has trying to discreetly get her attention by pressing the glass into her wrist. She looked up at him, confused before he pointedly looked to Dean, hovering in Jo's space, lips a few inches from hers, the shot glass on the table and then back to the world's least subtle couple whispering to each other.

Castiel poured himself a shot and silently clinked it with Paige's on the table. Paige smiled, despite herself, as she took the tequila and swallowed the second shot, funny enough the burn didn't seem so bad when Dean was looking at Jo like that.

"No, sweetheart, if it really is my last night on earth," said Jo as she pulled away from him in the familiar tone Paige recognized as one where she was absolutely relishing in telling a man to go fuck himself, "I'd like to spend it with a little thing I like to call self-respect."

She laughed at his shocked face as she passed him before her eyes landed on Paige and they shared a beaming smile, laughing together at Dean's expense.

Then Jo kept walking towards her. Then closer and closer until her hands were on either side of Paige's chair, trapping Paige's face between them.

And Paige couldn't breathe and the room was spinning and everything was blurry and meaningless except Jo and Jo's lips as they met hers.

Jo's lips stayed for a moment before moving a little, parting to accommodate Paige's bottom lip between hers. Jo's arms left their resting spot on the back of Paige's chair an,d finding Paige's cheeks, began skim her thumbs in small and soothing circles over them as they kissed.

Paige's hands rose to hold Jo's arms, almost to confirm that they were there, touching her and holding her in place because Paige was sure that her pounding heart would burst out of her chest and break her into a million pieces if Jo wasn't holding her together. It was always Jo who was holding her together.

They stayed like that for an eternity and it still wasn't enough as Jo pulled back from the kiss. Paige hated reality a little in that moment as she felt the eyes of three hunters and an angel on them. As her eyes met Jo's, Jo's were twinkling with mirth. What better way to tell a man to fuck himself than to press your lips against a woman's? Paige had to plaster a fake smile on, because she loved Jo and Jo was still laughing at Dean.

She loved Jo and she was afraid that it might be gone, and she wouldn't be whole anymore without Jo holding her together.

Dean cleared his throat and tried his best to recover his confident stance, cocking his beer.

"If you're into that kind of thing," he said dismissively.

"Hey, DeGeneres and Portia, if you gotta minute." Said Bobby from the doorway, looking unsurprised by their sudden intimacy, "Get in here."

Ellen recovered first and followed Sam into the room where Bobby had set up a camera.

"Oh, Bobby, no one wants their picture taken." Said Ellen, joining Sam in the corner he gestured to nonetheless.

"Shuddup," said Bobby, setting the camera's timer, "You're drinkin my beer. Anyways," he said as he rolled his chair backwards to position himself in the shot. Dean, Jo, Castiel and Paige trooped in as well, all adjusting themselves to face forwards, "I'm gonna need something to remember your sorry asses by,"

Paige stood between Castiel and Ellen, glancing over at Bobby as he spoke.

"Always good to have an optimist around," said Ellen with a bark of laughter.

"Bobby's right," said Castiel, "Tomorrow we hunt the devil. This is our last night on Earth."

Any semblance of normalcy vanished from the room like Castiel had slashed a hole in a tire that was suddenly leaking air. It was no longer a "party and drink" kind of last night on Earth it had become solemn and defining. Paige was going to die tomorrow, and that didn't the death itself didn't seem so bad.

But what if she died and Jo never knew?

Paige's eyes met Jo's as the camera gave a loud flash, cementing the seven hunters in history as the idiots who thought they could take out the devil and died stupidly in the process. They all stayed like that for a few minutes after the camera clicked, unsure of what to do.

Sam was the first to break from them, removing his arm from Paige and Castiel's shoulders as he was posed behind them.

"On that note, I guess I better try to get some sleep," he said.

"Yeah," said Dean, "Yeah, don't want to meet the devil with bags under your eyes," teased Dean, but there was nothing light in his tone.

Jo gave her mother a long hug as she and Paige said their good-nights to the other five before disappearing to the room upstairs.

* * *

Paige closed the door behind them as Jo started to pull back the blankets on the bed, then started to slip out of her clothes as she got ready to go to sleep. Paige had seen plenty of Jo plenty of times. Tight quarters and a complete lack of shame on Jo's part made sure of that. They had been physically close as well, holding hands, hugging, nestling up together on cold nights, but it was different in this moment.

Paige started walking towards Jo, slowly and there couldn't have been any doubt in Jo's mind as to what was about to happen. Paige felt like it had been written on her face since Jo's little stunt with Dean.

She wondered where the confidence came from. For as long as she could remember, the idea of walking towards Jo to do this, to let Jo know that Paige needed her in every single way, had been the scariest thing that Paige could fathom. Now, however, as her feet led her to Jo, to where she always wanted to be, it didn't seem scary at all. It felt so natural it was almost embarrassing that she would ever be afraid of Jo rejecting her.

After everything, thick and thin, murders and archangels, Jo had stood by Paige.

Their lips met again and it was like they had never been apart. Paige had never done this with another woman, had never imagined being with another woman besides Jo, and she was amazed that it didn't feel any different from kissing John or Zapata. Warm lips that wanted her, broken as she was.

Jo's hands found Paige's and they linked their fingers together as they kissed. Paige's tongue was the one to meet Jo's lips but they only waited for a second before Jo's mouth was open and Paige was exploring it, tasting tequila and the peanuts that Jo had been snacking on all night. It was imperfect and raw and everything that Paige had ever wanted from her.

No one hesitated, no one pulled away. As always, Paige and Jo were mentally in the exact same place at the same time and Paige realized that Jo had been _waiting_ for this. Jo had been waiting for Paige, Jo had wanted her all along. And Paige was mad at herself for trying Jo's patience, but then, she couldn't imagine this perfect moment existing anywhere else.

Jo slowly stepped back so that she was sitting on the bed, guiding Paige down to her, never breaking their lips or fingers from the other. Paige didn't think that Lucifer himself could pull her away from Jo, like this, in her arms. Jo pulled her fingers from Paige's as she took off Paige's clothes, laying them on the floor or bed until Paige was naked. Jo had already stripped down to her underwear in preparation of sleep. Soft warm skin, a little softer on Paige's part, met each other and it wasn't a hot race to fuck as much as it was a warm rising tide.

But the uncooperative weather deemed that it was too cold for doing that above the covers, so they both slid beneath them.

They were apart for a moment as they adjusted themselves in the cozy bed. Jo slid her underwear off and Paige wasn't sure what to do with herself while she waited. Luckily Jo made short work of the clothes and rolled back over to her, easing the tension from Paige's lips and body with soft, exploring touches which Paige mirrored. She marveled at the curves of her, slopes and mountains of breasts and thighs, soft and warm as Paige grazed her fingers down them.

Then Paige's hand drifted to a territory unknown and she stilled.

"Nervous?" Jo whispered against Paige's lips, smiling. It was impossible to be embarrassed when it was Jo, her _Jo_ beneath her fingers.

"A little." Said Paige, "It's the end of the world. And, more importantly, it's you. What if I'm awful?"

"Then we'll just have to keep doing it over and over again until we get it right," said Jo, but she cupped her hand over Paige's between her legs and began to guide it with gentle pressures, showing Paige what she needed. Jo's breath caught as Paige found her hard button and Jo retracted her hand as Paige took control. Jo traced Paige's collarbone as Paige found a rhythm, Paige couldn't look away from Jo, panting and unraveling before her as Jo's thighs tensed, Paige picked up speed and increased pressure. Jo licked her lips right before she came, resting them softly into the crook of Paige's neck as she rode out her after shocks.

"Oh, Paige," she murmured in ecstasy, "Oh Paige…"

"Awful, wasn't it?" Paige whispered, grinning, "I guess we'll just have to keep at it until I learn."

"Darn, and I had plans to die tomorrow."

"I guess we just have to do that some other day." Said Paige, as Jo sat up in her arms, skimming her fingers over Paige, "I think we're going to have to do this over and over until it's perfect. I don't care if we have to stay alive until we're old and grey."

Jo kissed Paige again and moved so that she was over her, straddling her hips. Then, grinning like a very very naughty child with a plan, Jo moved her body down again until her head disappeared beneath the covers and Paige gasped at the wet friction below.

"I love you, Jo." She murmured, over and over again. It felt almost as good to say the words as to feel Jo's hands on her. Almost. "I love you, I love you I love—" Paige's voice hitched as she orgasmed harder and faster than she ever had before, grabbing the pillow as the pleasure sent a shock through her body and reminding herself that there were five hunters in the house who were neither deaf nor dumb.

"I've been saying that for ages," Jo said, wiping her mouth as the mussed blonde head peeked out from under the blanket, "Took you long enough."

"No, Jo," said Paige as Jo wrapped herself in Paige's arms and closed her eyes sleepily, "I really, _really_ love you. Sexually, romantically as a friend, as a sister. I love you Jo."

"And what did you think I meant when I said it all those times before?" she asked, smiling into Paige's shoulder. They kissed softly for a few moments, sleepily almost. Paige grinning into Jo's hair and Jo smiling into Paige's shoulder and it didn't seem so bad.

Because, even if she died tomorrow, Paige knew that she had this moment with Jo. She knew that she was whole for the first time in a long time and, on a night when she never thought she'd find sleep, she found sanctuary in Jo's arms.

* * *

**Sorry for such a long chapter! I hope that the fact of "FINALLY!" makes up for it. The other half to be posted very soon. Reviews please!**


	38. Chapter 38: Abandon All Hope

**Another long chapter, for which I apologize. But this is the last one. Again, my usual disclaimer; skipping lines is a concern of space, not editing. This is one of the best episodes in all of SPN if not all TV. Now, without further ado.**

* * *

Dean stared at the ceiling of Bobby's house, lying uncomfortably on the scratchy couch that he barely fit on. Next to him, Sam slept on the floor, lying on his stomach with his exaggerated limbs spread like a skydiver. Dean took a moment to regret his haste to call dibs on the sofa as the hour got late. Sam had put up a most convincing facsimile of protest at the loss, but surrendered just a little too quickly. If Dean barely fit, then he knew for damn sure that his Jolly Green Giant of a brother didn't have a chance of finding comfort on the couch.

Maybe it was all that psychology nonsense that Sam would read and talk about. Like maybe it was ingrained in his nature to take care of Sam, his little brother, even after the man next to him had outgrown him. Or maybe Sam was just a little bit more clever than he was and recognized the couch as the medieval torture device that it really was. To Dean's dismay, he realized that both had equal odds of being true.

Abandoning all hope of sleep, Dean stood and walked around Sam's figure to get outside where he met the love of his life. The one who had been there for him when he needed it. The one who had loved him, no matter what he did to convince them otherwise.

The Impala's cold metal was home, simple as that and eternal as the sun. Dean felt the car under his hand as he leaned against the hood, exhaling in relief as the car soothed him.

"Dean." greeted the all too familiar voice of Castiel as the angel appeared beside him. It was a tribute to how used to angels Dean had gotten that he wasn't even surprised at Castiel's sudden presence.

"Cas," said Dean, mimicking Castiel's short phrase and low tone.

Castiel stood and looked Dean over while Dean politely pretended he was totally cool with being stared down with squinted blue eyes as Castiel tried to read him. Mercifully, Cas was no longer in Dean's personal space. Or perhaps Dean's sense of personal space had simply gotten smaller since he was incredibly aware of Cas's warmth beside him. To Dean's dismay, he realized that both had equal odds of being true.

At first glance, Cas looked human enough. He looked like a stiff, nerdy, serious, borderline sociopath human but human nonetheless. But once you looked long enough, he was so impossibly inhuman that it was almost funny to think that anyone ever fell for the disguise. Castiel pulsated with energy, warm and alive, shimmering with a haze of power. And when Dean stood beside him, he felt the strength of Heaven washing over him in waves. It felt comforting and safe.

That was why Dean was wary of it.

Dean knew from experience that when you started feeling safe and comfortable for no apparent reason, something big and bad and evil was just lurking, ready to pounce.

The nightlight and stuffed giraffe you clutch to you after your mother puts you to bed aren't real comfort. They don't really keep you safe, nothing can. Shoving your head under the covers when you hear your mother scream for her life protects you from nothing. "Angels are watching over you," she had said, "You will always be safe because the angels are watching over you." But, turns out, angels don't play fair. Nothing stood between Dean and suffering.

Nothing but blood. And, currently, his only living blood was just starting to get over his year-long demon bender. Even family could mess you up pretty good. Nothing was safe. Everything could hurt.

But as Dean felt Cas's energy beside him and the Impala's hood beneath him, the peace he fought with every part of his being came trickling in, more potent than anything before.

The Impala was his nursery, his playground, his bedroom, his school. Memories of his childhood came in bits and pieces, mashed around a bit and crinkled by the cruel effects of time. One of the most powerful memories he ever possessed was waking up with Sam heavy on his arm, cutting off circulation. Both were in the backseat while John sat in the front and drove. It was dark and quiet, since John always turned off the music while his boys slept. Dean could only see the back of his father's head and the asphalt of the road before him. And for some reason he remembered a nightlight, shaped like a cowboy boot and an unplaceable feeling of comfort from the light it cast into the shadows.

Mary had thought that Dean was getting too old for it and she didn't want him to start school if he was still afraid of the dark but John knew nightmares. Even before monsters and demons, John knew war.

John would always be sure to turn it on for him when Mary 'forgot.' He would pop his head into the room and turn it on, smiling at Dean if he saw that the four year old was still awake and make a face that told Dean it was their little secret.

After his mother's death, John may have raised Sam and Dean in a way that would have made child protective services' head spin, but as their Dad drove through the dark, Dean knew that he was safe. As long as John was there, nothing would hurt him. His father was the light, cast into the shadows, protecting them.

Of course, once Dean got behind the wheel of the car, he realized that his Dad had never been stronger or smarter than he was. He was just older. His Dad wasn't a superhero. His Dad could die, just as easy as anyone else.

John Winchester was just a man. When it came to safety, his dad was just a nightlight; an illusion of protection.

Cas mirrored Dean's gesture, leaning against the Impala and glancing over to be sure that he got the relaxed pose just right.

"No prostitutes tonight, then?" asked Cas, "This appears to be one of your more low key 'Last nights on Earth.'"

"Yeah, well, after the fourth or fifth one, kinda gets routine." Dean said with a grin. A joke he knew that Cas wouldn't laugh at, but he said it anyways.

"You are frustrated that you didn't get to make love to Jo Harvelle?" asked Castiel.

"Nah, not really." Said Dean, smirking at Castiel's word choice. "Fact is we don't really know each other. Like her, though. She's a pretty girl. Tough as nails and has she got a mouth on her. Kinda like one of those little dogs that has no idea that that it's so tiny and is just wanderin around, startin shit. Sometimes, it's just as dangerous to like the idea of a person as it is to actually love someone. Jo is the kind of girl I want to end up with, when I think about endin up with anyone. Smart mouth, bullshit bustin blonde who sometimes gets a hankerin for making out with other girls? I'm gonna marry that woman someday. "

"You aren't bothered by the fact that she is currently having sex with another woman?"

Dean blanched. Cas' eyes narrowed as he watched Dean's reaction, Dean could almost feel Castiel poking around his head, trying to see what he did wrong.

"How do you know—can you hear them?"

"Yes."

"Well, stop it." Snapped Dean. Castiel nodded, but Dean was sure that Cas couldn't stop hearing if he tried, angel mojo senses and all. "Or at least don't go around telling people about it. That stuff is private."

"I apologize." Said Cas, and Dean relaxed his shoulders again. He knew it wasn't Cas' fault and there was a second of guilt as he realized how hard Cas was trying, how hard Cas always tried.

"Don't gotta apologize to me, Cas." Said Deana little softer. "You never gotta apologize to me."

One of the wonderful things about Cas was that he was completely at peace to simply exist. Cas didn't sleep. Didn't eat. Didn't seem to grow restless or bored. There was no pressure to talk and quiet was the only thing Dean really needed. Sex? Booze? A big hurrah to seal the deal of his life? For some reason all that seemed staged and playacted. Exhausting compared to the peace of the silence and dark beside Castiel.

So Dean indulged in feeling safe and comforted between his home and his friend. Both standing in silence, waiting for the world to end.

* * *

Paige and Jo were the last ones to walk down the stairs towards the Jeep in the morning as everyone packed up their weapons and goods and made to head to certain death. The pair had missed breakfast altogether, choosing instead to 'sleep' in and take a long, languid shower. Together.

The past ten hours were like a blur in Paige's mind. A long, happy blur interrupted by bouts of kisses and skin, soft curves meeting soft curves, long soft brown hair tangling in the pillows with long blonde. Between the two of them, they probably got about three hours of sleep. Paige's eyes were heavy, but she fought the drowsy haze with the comfort of knowing that her dreams could never be so half as good as her reality was.

The two would doze for a few minutes, then one would skim fingers over her partner and feather light traces became hungry strokes and became panted, rising orgasms in a matter of minutes. Fingers would entwine and lips and tongues would be reunited, tasting sinfully of each other. It was a marathon of affection and lust and sleep and it was the best night that Paige could ever remember having.

The shower was more giggly than erotic, though both ended up getting each other off under the hot stream of water. Almost innocently as they rubbed wash cloths over each other's bodies the hand cleaning shoulders or chest skimmed lower and lower until one panted the other's name. And it was always fifty-fifty. Paige had been afraid that a woman would be harder to please, that she wouldn't be able to satisfy Jo like she had John. But Jo would grow wet and tremble beneath her touch and eventually her tongue. Nothing made Paige feel more powerful than Jo clutching her and whispering out her name, the roar of the running water giving both licence to be more vocal than they had the night before.

As Jo walked over to help her mother load a box of Bobby's weapons into the car trunk, Castiel approached Paige.

"I would like to speak with you." He said flatly, as he usually said anything, Paige noticed. She nodded and Castiel walked to the side of the house, glancing over her shoulder to be sure no one else could hear them. "I need you to stay near me," said Castiel, "I made a promise."

"A promise to Gabriel?"

"Yes."

Paige looked Casitel over. Even at half mast, the angel was stronger than most humans and, apart from the colt, their best defense against Lucifer. An angel fighting another angel, even one who outranked him, was a fairer fight than a couple of humans against the King of Hell.

And Gabriel was tied to Paige just as Paige was tied to Gabriel. Gabriel was watching Paige in correspondence of some prophecy. It was some prophecy that Gabriel swore he'd never fulfill, yet he always seemed to have Paige's back. And Paige? Gabriel was her friend, thorns and all. The archangel couldn't risk the frontlines of a war he was trying to stay out of, not to mention the fact that Lucifer had been hunting Gabriel like a deer in season. Paige didn't blame the archangel for his absence. She simply wasn't sure how she felt about Gabriel delegating his babysitting duties to another angel, one she hardly knew.

But, she trusted Gabriel. So, she decided that she had to trust Castiel.

"Alright." Said Paige.

* * *

Carthage, Missouri was just as empty and eerie as the town that housed the Devil demanded. The women and Castiel were driving in Ellen's Jeep, all three with their phones outstretched, looking for a phone signal.

Dean pulled the Impala to the side of the road so that they could talk to Ellen and Jo, following behind them.

"Place seem a little empty to you?" asked Ellen over Jo in the front seat.

"We're gonna go check out the P.D, You guys stay here. See if you can find somebody." said Dean.

Ellen and Jo nodded pulling over to the side of the road. The three women got out, Ellen and Jo from the front seat as Paige slid from the back. She held the door expectantly for Castiel but the angel's big blue eyes were darting furiously around the empty street. Paige recognized it. The angel was seeing something she couldn't.

"Ever heard of a door?" asked Jo, standing beside Paige as she watched Castiel sit silently in the care. Suddenly, Castiel was outside the car beside them, though still looking at the deserted street instead of at them.

"Of course I have," he said.

"What is it, Cas?" asked Ellen as the other two women noticed that he was silently taking inventory of their surroundings and seeing more than them.

"This town's not empty." Said Castiel, pausing heavily, "they're reapers."

"Reaper_s_? As in more than one?"

"They only gather like this in times of great catastrophe; Chicago Fire, San Francisco Quake, Pompeii." Castiel still wasn't giving them his full attention as he continued looking around. "Excuse me, I need to find out why they're here."

He started walking down the street looking at the reapers, invisible to their eyes. Paige swallowed air as she remembered her promise to him. Castiel hesitated about twenty yards away, looking over his shoulder to Paige.

"I'm going to follow Cas." Said Paige to Ellen and Jo. Ellen looked taken aback but Jo searched Paige's face, an unspoken understanding between them. "He probably won't need any back up, but just in case, I'm going with. We can't leave one man alone."

Paige felt her eyes water as she said it. She wanted Jo with her. She wanted Jo to have whatever protection Castiel was offering her. But Jo wanted, needed to stay with her mother. Her family. And they couldn't all follow Cas around. Someone needed to help the Winchesters.

Ellen clapped Paige on the shoulder, her own eyes watering as well. The silent farewell of hunters. Paige turned to Jo, her pinky outstretched and almost cried at the familiar gesture. Jo linked her pinky with Paige's but used the connection to pull Paige forward into a long kiss.

"Don't you forget that we have a date tonight." Jo whispered in Paige's ear, "You've still got a lot to learn, missy. We are gonna need the rest of our lives to get it right."

Paige's eyes swam as she nodded at Jo's joke.

"I love you."

* * *

Castiel turned his head as he heard Paige approach, her own eyes warily searching for anything she could see, but her human perception was too finite. She settled for holding her gun at ease in front of her stomach, watching Castiel watch the reapers.

Castiel looked up into a window and saw a reaper, though unlike all the others, this one was watching him and Paige. After he moved them both to the hallway where he had seen the reaper, Castiel realized he probably should have given the hunter a little warning. The few times that he had pulled Dean the same way, Dean would stumble, curse and need a few seconds to compose himself before glaring at Cas. Paige however, besides looking a little shaken, remained ready. A side effect, he supposed, of her relationship with Gabriel.

She nodded as she felt his eyes on her, telling him she was ready to keep moving forward.

As they turned a corner, Paige suddenly leaped into his space, clutching the lapels of his vessel's raincoat.

"Hello, brother" said a voice and everything went white.

* * *

When Castiel came to, he was standing in a ring of holy fire, his most feared brother looking at him across the flames of his prison.

"Lucifer," said Castiel. Lucifer gave a small nod and started pacing around Castiel.

"So, I take it you're here with the Winchesters." He said, almost conversationally.

"I came alone." Said Castiel quickly.

Lucifer grinned and moved to the side exposing Paige, chained with her hands over her head, lifted high off the ground so that only her toes scraped the floor.

"Loyalty," said Lucifer, "such a nice quality to see in this day and age." Lucifer paused to give Castiel time to respond. When he didn't, Lucifer pressed forward.

"Little thing grabbed you as I pulled you from where you were. But, seeing as you came alone, I guess I could just kill her then."

When Castiel swallowed hard and looked nervously between Paige and Lucifer, Lucifer gave a great grin.

"You're either an idiot or a genius for bringing her here." He said, looking Paige over. "Just plopping her right in my lap. I suppose by human standards she's pretty. Nick seems to think so. He especially likes the chains." Lucifer looked her over thoughtfully, then walked forward towards her. "Hello, child, I will not hurt you." Paige gave a disbelieving snort and scooted as far away from Lucifer as she could, toes kicking at the ground, trying to get space.

"What a pretty little pawn you are," said Lucifer softly, "I smell my dear brother on you. I may hate your little race, but at least I'm upfront about it. I want to end your life. I want to end it all. But I would do it quickly, love. You wouldn't even feel it and you wouldn't be theirs to play with anymore. You know, if you weren't human, I think you would agree with me."

"Oh, you don't think so?" he asked, smiling as Paige jerked her head away from his, a few inches from her as he spoke, "You like animals, right? All of my Father's beautiful creatures, great and small. So perfectly adapted and suited to their environment. So skillfully created with love and life. Intricate. Insignificant and yet impossibly perfect. Little seals and otters and elephants. You don't eat them. You don't wear them. Am I wrong?"

Paige didn't respond, but she looked back at him, if hesitantly and hatefully. Lucifer gave a small smile and continued.

"There are no oil spills in a world without humans. There is no deforestation, no pollution. No poachers, no global warming. Are you so conceited that you think humanity deserves to survive? At the expense of everything else? They get to kill a creature just because they like the taste of it? Spill blood for the fabric of it against their skin. Stuffing their fat faces with my father's creatures when they haven't any need to. They destroy. They use their greed, their ambition, their lust and laziness and they kill those who can't fight back. Those who are more beautiful than they."

Paige's eyes softened and Lucifer nodded as he turned away from her, knowing that he had made his point.

"I'm not so bad, Sophie." He said, "I understand that it isn't your fault. You are human, as you were created. Your species is flawed terribly. Greedy and hungry for meat and power. I could use you, as Michael did. Use you as bait to get my powerful brother on my side. I won't though. Remember that."

A demon entered the room, dark haired and dark eyed, she looked absolutely ecstatic as she laid eyes on Lucifer.

"I've got the Winchesters pinned down." She said almost reverently, "For now, at least."

Castiel saw a quick flicker of annoyance across Lucifer's face at her interruption. It was quickly tucked away and he spoke levelly.

"Good. Leave them where they are," said Lucifer, turning his attention back to Paige.

"Master," asked the demon, "are you sure? I—"

The flicker of annoyance came back, but was then quickly closed down as he stepped forward towards the demon.

"Patience, my child," he said, "All in good time." He cupped the demon's face in his hands. She smiled at his affection, looking at him with lust and worship. He stepped away and the demon laid eyes on Paige.

"I know you." She said to Paige, stepping forward. "I know your smell."

Paige went rigid, her eyes round with fear.

"Oh, that's right. Little blonde thing? Gosh, I've had my eye on that one for a while."

"Meg." Lucifer said softly, a warning. The demon, Meg, took a step away from Paige as she heard Lucifer's tone. But she bit her lip restlessly. She wanted to obey Lucifer, but she also dearly wanted to torment Paige a little more.

"Tell me, does her pussy taste as sweet as her blood did?"

Paige swung out at Meg as the words left her lips, knocking Meg in the stomach. The demon laughed as she fell backwards.

"Bitch." Yelled Paige, fighting the chains as well as she could, "Fucking bitch, I'll kill you. I'll kill yo—"

Lucifer snapped her neck with a flick of his wrist, she fell limp against her bonds. Castiel watched Lucifer compose his face, hiding his fury from his loyal demon crony. Meg seemed to realize that she had messed up as well.

"Master—" she started, "Master, I'm so sorry."

"We may need her, child." Said Lucifer. Castiel was sure that only he could tell how Lucifer gritted his teeth as he said it. "It would have been good to have her on our side, sympathetic to our cause."

"A human? A mere human?" asked Meg. "She is dead now, Master. I'm so sorry."

"She won't stay dead." Said Lucifer.

* * *

"Gabriel" Called Castiel as he appeared in the apartment.

Gabriel's lover entered the room a second before Gabriel did and his eyes fell on Paige, her limp body held in Castiel's arms.

"Paige?" Jakab asked Gabriel, looking between him and Castiel, "Is she al—"

Then Jakab let out a dry sob as he realized that Paige's chest wasn't moving. Her neck was at a weird angle. The young woman was dead.

Gabriel stepped forward and relieved Castiel of his burden, walking into the bedroom and laying the woman on the bed. Castiel and Jakab had silently followed him and stood in the doorway.

"Her lover?" asked Gabriel tersely. His usually lyrical voice was flat. His glittering eyes had grown dull and introverted.

"Dead."

Gabriel nodded.

"That is all, Castiel." He said, like a commander pulling rank, "You are dismissed."

Castiel hesitated, looking between Gabriel and Paige. He wanted to say something more. He realized that he should say something, do something, comfort his brother in some way.

"Leave." Gabriel ordered, louder. Castiel felt his energy flicker as Gabriel tried to forcibly throw him out. "Leave. Do not return for her."

Castiel disappeared.

Gabriel had cried three times in his entire existence on Earth.

The first time had been during the first war with Lucifer. When Lucifer first rebelled, a trickle of angels followed in his wake. Weaker angels, stupider angels, but his brothers nonetheless. He had killed three in a battle and the fourth had caught him unaware, slicing him down his back and wounding him. Hurt, guilty and with blood from his brothers and himself on his clothes, he retreated to his human lover's home. It had been a small hut, occupied by her and her infant child. She had smiled when she saw him but the expression turned to fear as she took in his state. She let him reach into her soul to heal himself and he had been hasty in his fear and his pain.

The minute he started to heal himself was the minute that she started shoving him off with all her might, screaming and scratching as the pushes did nothing to him. Gabriel held her tight, then she suddenly stopped fighting him. He held his lover's corpse in his arms and cried as he saw what his greed and power took from those he loved.

The second time he cried had been right after he rebelled. He knew that there were angels who would have followed him into the abyss and into rebellion, but Gabriel hadn't wanted war.

A small band of angels came to Earth, searching for him. Raphael had followed them, hoping they'd lead him to Gabriel. Either Raphael grew impatient or Michael told him to back off, but he stopped hunting. Instead, Raphael ambushed the loyal angels who were searching for their missing leader. Gabriel heard them scream his name, beg for his help as Raphael took out his anger at Gabriel on the handful of soldiers loyal to him. Gabriel heard them, but he was a coward. So their cries went out to nowhere, alone and hopeless as they diedd.

The third time Gabriel cried was as he looked over the lifeless body of Paige.

He would be surprised if any angel in the cosmos would ever forget the scream of her soul as they ripped it from heaven. It drowned out all other noise in its tragic desperation. It was simultaneously the sound of a mother being torn from her child and a woman losing her lover.

Gabriel wiped his eyes quickly as he waited for Paige to wake up.


	39. Chapter 39: She's Come Undone

Paige was resurrected with a gasp and a jolt of tension in her muscles. Her eyes were wide with panic, unseeing and wild. Her breath came in short gasps and pants. But, Gabriel reasoned, her soul had just gone on a celestial roller coaster and it hadn't exactly been a smooth ride. The fact that she wasn't seizing or screaming was nothing short of a miracle.

Her arms started moving around the bed as she became more lucid, looking for something, someone, anything to ground her in her new reality. Gabriel scooted forward and touched her hands. Her body relaxed and she smiled softly as she looked in his general direction. Her eyes were still unfocused, still somewhere between heaven and earth, but she recognized his presence. She mouthed his name before she closed her eyes and stilled.

* * *

"Gabriel?" she asked, sitting up. Her voice was heavy and disoriented, but she was forming whole words and thoughts. She shivered as she looked around.

"Where are we?"

"Lillehammer, Norway."

"Oh. Ok." She said, scrunching her brow for a moment as she thought. "Wait, what happened to Budapest?"

"Don't live there anymore."

"Oh, Ok." She said again in a small, offhanded voice."What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"The movies? My Dad was… wait." She said, she shook her head and forced herself to focus, reaching for something real and tangible. Gabriel dreaded the moment she found it. "That's not right. My father is dead.""Her voice was stronger, harsher. "I remember… Bobby's. Then I remember…" Her face fell. "Lucifer."

Gabriel gave a great sigh and dropped his shoulders. He couldn't look at Paige as she pieced it together.

"Gabriel?" she asked, her voice scared. "Gabriel?"

Gabriel looked at the ground.

"No. No, no, no. Jo. My Jo. Where is she—?" Paige took a shuddering breath as she realized it. "Dead."

Gabriel looked up at her, and she put her hand over her mouth. She was beyond tears. Gabriel placed his hand on her knee. She looked up at him again but her eyes were glazed over.

"Back." Said Paige. "You get her and bring her back."

Gabriel's chest tightened as he shook his head.

"Yes." She said, "Yes. Yes. Yes. Bring her hack to me. Get her. Save her. She's mine. I need her, Gabriel I need…" She tried every tone she possessed. Begging, yelling, broken, strong, desperate. A whole spectrum of emotions in a matter of minutes, just to get him to act. Gabriel kept shaking his head, "no."

"I'm not whole without her, Gabriel." She whispered. "I'm not alive if she's gone."

"I can't, Paige." He said, his throat was tight and the words were harder to get out than he ever expected. He had refused to bring people back before. He had refused Kings, lovers, parents, siblings. He had said 'no,' to that more often than he had ever said 'yes,' but it had never been harder than it was at that moment.

"Can't or won't?" she asked.

"Won't."

"I hate you." She whispered. "I hate you, Gabriel."

She fell back against the bed, away from him. Gabriel placed his hand on her back, wishing he could heal grief like he could heal a wound.

Her body went rigid under his hand. Gabriel retracted it like it was on fire and stood to leave.

"I'm sorry." He said. He said it so quietly, he thought she might not have heard him. Gabriel never apologized. Not for his rebellion, his haste, his temper or his power, but Gabriel apologized for this.

"I hate you," Paige said again.

Gabriel stood at the doorway and looked at her sadly. He then turned shut the door on her.

* * *

Depression sat heavily on Paige, like a physical weight holding her down, filling her limbs with lead. She must have fallen asleep after she yelled at Gabriel because when she woke up, the sky was darker. She couldn't move. She didn't know what to do with herself even if she could. Her hunting partner was dead. Her best friend was dead. Her girlfriend was dead.

Paige remembered Jo, brown eyes gazing up at her, blonde hair slicked back under the shower spray, smiling at the world's best joke, secret and private between them.

Gone. Jo was gone, gone, gone.

Paige fell back asleep, for lack of anything else to do. The next time she woke up, there was a bowl of soup and a sandwich beside her bed. She ignored it and rolled back over.

The next time she woke, the soup and sandwich were replaced by a glass of juice and a bowl of strawberries. Paige's favorite.

She turned on her side, away from it, forcing herself back into slumber.

It got to the point where the only way she knew the time of day was by the type of meal beside her bed. Fruit in the morning, soup at lunch and dinner was usually another soup with a sandwich or pasta. Paige realized, abstractly, that she was hungry, but whenever she took a bite, it was dull and thick in her throat. Strawberries, pasta, lentil soup all tasted identical, like sand but with the texture of play doh, gagging her.

Unable to eat, she put down her spoon or fork and instead laid back against the pillows. Sleep was the only thing that came naturally, the only thing that took away the big fat nothing she felt when she was awake.

After the third cycle of meals, Paige got up and went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. A pale, wrinkled and greasy woman looked back at her. She was breaking out from the oil in her hair and on her pillow, her face was bloated and round. She didn't look like anything that someone could have once loved. She didn't look like anything at all.

She washed her mouth out with some water from the tap, the foul taste of her own breath was starting to bother her. She started poking around the bathroom for toothpaste or a toothbrush, realizing absently that she was in the bathroom that Jakab used. Of course, Paige had no idea if Gabriel had human bodily functions, but given his unaltering appearance every time she saw him, she guessed 'no.' Gabriel didn't shave. He didn't cut his hair. Gabriel was constant.

But Jakab was always so clean shaven.

She had the tube of toothpaste in her hand as she had the cruelest idea she'd ever possessed, her brain working a mile a minute as her eyes laid upon Jakab's razor.

She was so numb that she didn't feel it. She didn't even feel the blood on her wrists, moving as gravity dictated, downward over the slope of her arm. Sleep was coming again. Her only companion in all the lethargy.

As if from far away, she heard a plate being dropped from the door.

"Gabriel!" yelled the voice, frantic and frightened, "Gabriel!"

The archangel appeared at Paige's feet, looking at her as she laid out on the bathroom floor, wrists slit. She eyed him from her place on the floor, but his face was hard as stone. He dropped to his knees and placed one of his hands over each of her wrists. She had figured that she wouldn't be able to die in peace. She was a prisoner of reality, of life. So she rebelled in the only way she knew how.

"Don't, Paige." Said Gabriel as he healed her. His weight was holding her down, locking her in place, preventing her protests. Yet, his precaution was needless. The lead was returning to her limbs. She was detached and cold and numb.

"Paige?" snapped Gabriel, forcing her to look at him. She turned to him with glass eyes, only barely seeing him. Only barely present. "Paige, you can't. They'll send you back. They'll keep sending you back."

"I hate you." She said again before turning her head and looking deliberately at the wall beside her. Childish and mean, but she did it anyways. She was powerless. She was empty. She didn't care anymore. She just didn't care.

Gabriel got off her and walked out the door, slamming it. Paige fell back asleep on the floor of the bathroom, to tired, too heavy to get up. She should have been dead. She should have been with Jo, in Heaven. But she couldn't die. Gabriel wouldn't let her.

So she settled for being dead to the world.

* * *

There was a knock at her door the next morning. Or perhaps it was the next afternoon. She couldn't tell anymore.

"Go fuck yourself, Gabriel."

"Paige?" asked Jakab as he slipped his head in the door.

Paige couldn't be mad at Jakab, whom she realized had been the one bringing her food and drinks every few hours. Whose bed she was probably sleeping in and whose bathroom she was probably using.

He was holding a tray of strawberries and fruit with a large glass of orange juice beside it. Morning, then. He quietly swapped the untouched soup from the night before for her breakfast and stood to leave. He hesitated.

"Gabriel vishes you vould eat someting." He said kindly. Paige gave an unsympathetic snort and rolled over, trying to wordlessly tell Jakab to leave her alone. Instead, he sat on the bed next to her. "I vish you vould eat something."

Paige sighed and then turned to face him. She knew she looked and probably smelled disgusting. She couldn't remember the last time that she had showered. Jakab looked her over and then stood, pulling her to her feet.

Her muscles were sore and foal like due to their complete inaction for several days. Jakab steadied her as they walked to the bathroom, he then turned on the water, filling an bath for her.

"Just pretend." He said softly. He started helping Paige out of the large sweater she wore. "Just pretend you are ok for a few minutes. Just long enough to get in de tub."

"I don't think I can." Said Paige, "I don't know if I can."

Jakab nodded and did it for her, undressing her with all the efficient professionalism of a doctor. He stepped her into the tub and let her sit in the warm water for a moment. For a second, just a second, Paige pretended she was just a normal girl. Not someone who had lost everyone. Not someone who should be dead. Simply an ordinary girl.

And the water felt good against her skin, wiping away days of oil and sweat and filth. Jakab filled the tub with a sandalwood smelling oil and started rubbing her limbs with a wet rag.

She suddenly remembered Jo's hands washing her. Jo's hands worshiping her skin mere hours before they died. Jakab moved to wash her hair, and Paige pulled out of his grip and shook her head.

Her hair was Jo's. Jo would always comb it, dry it, style it, play with it when they were together. It was theirs. Jakab dropped the hand washing her and nodded. He helped her out of the tub, wrapping her in a towel.

Paige quietly realized that Gabriel must have changed the sheets while Jakab was bathing her because the bed she fell into was clean. She was exhausted from moving the few feet to the bathtub. Exhausted from her few minutes of pretending to be normal.

Jakab left her and Paige went back to sleep.

The next morning, Paige stood and walked into the kitchen. Jakab suddenly stopped talking in his Serbian language, his eyes drifting to a part of the kitchen that was still hidden from Paige by a wall as she walked towards him. As she entered it, the kitchen was empty. Paige was sure that Jakab had been talking to Gabriel who had vanished. Paige didn't know how to feel about that, but she was aware that should feel something.

Jakab smiled as he saw that she was up and busied himself making her a cup of tea. She helped herself to an apple that was in a bowl on the breakfast counter. It was sweet and crisp and crunchy and Paige marveled at it. She could taste. She could eat. The rest of her was still frozen in a time and place she didn't know, but she could taste this apple right now.

Jakab nodded in approval as she ate something.

"New apartment." She observed. Her voice was hoarse after several days of in use.

"Yes." Said Jakab with a strained smile, "Yes, ve have moved a few times since I saw you last."

"You don't like it here." Paige guessed, starting on another apple.

"Vell, ve have never lived someplace so unlike my home." He said, "It is a beautiful apartment vith lovely furniture, but… I miss de place of my childhood."

"Where was that?"

"Dere have been many changes to my home country in the past few decades," said Jakab with a sad grin, "But I believe it is now called Kosovo. It vas a warm sunny country and my family lived near a lake. My brothers and I vould swim all summer and even in de vinter, ven ve vere feeling reckless. My aunt grew flowers in de garden." He looked out the window, "None of de plants my aunt grew can grow here."

"I always thought Gabriel did all this," she gestured around the apartment, "For you. To keep you happy. Why don't you tell him you want to go back?"

"Maybe he used to do dose tings for me," said Jakab, "But Gabriel is not himself, lately. He doesn't tell me, he never has, but I tink ve are running."

Paige suddenly realized that Gabriel was hiding in plain sight. As Loki. The Scandinavian God who would live in a country like Norway or Sweden, relying on the magic of the other Norse gods to help mask his angel identity.

"It is not my place," said Jakab, gently "but I vish you vouldn't say dose tings to Gabriel. I know you don't mean dem. I tink Gabriel does too. But he is not OK. He hurts too. He needs his friends right now."

"He can… he can bring back…" She faltered as her throat tightened.

"He tells me noting," said Jakab, placing a hand on Paige's, "But you have lost someone. A lover?"

Paige nodded.

"You are a soldier." He guessed, "I can tell. I vas once a soldier too. Your lover… dey died on the battlefield?" He watched Paige's face for a reaction and gently squeezed her palm as she swallowed hard. She didn't think she could talk about Jo yet. She wasn't sure she could talk about Jo ever. Jakab seemed to figure out that he was right, he gave her hand another small, comforting pressure and continued, "An honorable vay to die. A soldier's vay to die. You vere dead too. I saw your body. Dey brought you back. Dey put you back in your body and you shook and shook and you didn't belong dere. You belonged verever you vere."

"Gabriel was the one who put me back," said Paige, accusingly, "Gabriel was the one who took me from… heaven."

"I… I don't tink he vas." Said Jakab thoughtfully, "He just sat next to you for an hour, den he cried. I have never seen Gabriel cry. I don't tink he does it often."

"I know he can bring her back. I know it."

"Her?" asked Jakab. Paige nodded, looking at the counter between them. "She is vere she belongs… if you love her… you'd let her stay vere she is. She has fought her fight and now it is her time to rest in peace. I am sorry for you. I am sorry dat dey can't seem to let you be, but… if you love her, you'd vant her to be at peace, even if she vas avay."

Paige's stomach filled with ice as she realized that Jakab was right. She was being selfish in wanting Gabriel to bring Jo back to her. Jo was a soldier who went out kicking some serious ass. Paige missed her. Paige missed her so hard it was like a big vortex had opened in her soul, swallowing every other emotion and thought that she had. But Jo, wherever she was, belonged there. Dead things should stay dead. She could bear the brunt of her prophecy alone if it would spare Jo the suffering.

Jakab leaned across the breakfast counter and kissed Paige on the cheek.

"I am so sorry." He whispered, "I am so sorry it is like dis."

* * *

After that day, Paige would wake up and join Jakab in the kitchen for breakfast. Then they would usually wind up in the living room, pouring over one of Jakab's many, many books. Jakab's passion seemed to be plants. Books about trees and flowers and shrubs that he could easily name, categorize and talk wistfully about growing. Books about plants he had never seen and books about plants he could only dream of. At first, Paige had asked him about plants as conversation topic. She was spending almost every waking minute with Jakab and between the language barrier and the fact that she couldn't talk about Jo or the apocalypse or anything real, she chose to listen to the man chatter about whatever he wanted.

Paige started to grow interested as she was skimming through his library one morning and found a thin, stiff book on plants used in summoning rituals. Jakab didn't seem to recognize the book as his own and disregarded it with a shrug, but Paige skimmed the spine before dropping into a chair and burying her nose in it. After that, Jakab and Paige kept unearthing books about the magical properties of plants, including one in Spanish, that Jakab didn't recognize. Paige suspected that Gabriel was stacking the library with books for her specifically.

Paige was distinctly aware of the fact that Gabriel made himself scarce on her account. Some mornings she would catch Jakab, speaking in his native tongue to someone in the shadows. Then, late at night, as she rolled over in her sleep or was awoken by a dream about blonde hair and brown eyes, sparkling under the warm stream of a shower, she would hear Gabriel's voice return Jakab's in a fast dialect she didn't understand. She knew that she should apologize, she should confront Gabriel and tell him that she was sorry and she understood and she was happy that he was taking care of her.

But another little part of her loved being mad. Mad that Gabriel was an angel, the same species that had been picking at her life and her destiny, ripping her from paradise. Mad that Gabriel would never know mortality like she did. Mad because Gabriel was there and would love her anyways.

Paige was still numb. She was still pretending, most of the time, to be ok. She acted like she was getting better, but at night the dreams of a wet woman, panting her name and running fingers through her hair, came back in full force. She only had a handful of emotions to work with; she had food and hunger and taste. She had affection for Jakab who was being so attentive to her and she had anger at Gabriel. Selfish as it was, she wasn't sure she wanted to give that last one up.

After a couple of days of reading with Jakab, Paige took a proper shower. Borrowing Jakab's razor, she shaved her legs and armpits. She used his sandalwood soap to wash herself and his lotion after she dried.

But she refused to wash her hair. It was Jo's. Jo who would detangle it with such care. Jo who would braid it while they watched a movie or curled it while she was bored. Jo had twirled a strand of it through her fingers after they made love, twining it with a strand of her own blonde hair. It was a stupid, random act of post coitus affection, but Jo smiled up at Paige with the braid of their hair pinched in her fingers, binding them together.

So instead, Paige piled the limp and dirty hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. She couldn't wash it, but neither could she tolerate it, heavy and musky, around her face. Jakab greeted the clean Paige with a smile, his eyes lingering on the dirty hair, but he didn't comment on it.

Jakab was absolutely ecstatic to learn that Paige spoke Spanish as he looked over one of the new books (planted by a certain archangel, no doubt) about flowers in the Yucatan jungles with a furrowed brow. As he looked through the book, he would find pictures of a flower he admired and then tug on Paige's arm to get her attention so she could translate for him. It wasn't easy, since Paige was about as familiar with the scientific language of flora in Spanish as she was in English, but it made Jakab impossibly happy.

"Paige?" asked Jakab after the third time he did this, "May I ask a question?"

Paige shrugged up from the book, thinking it was another question about flowers or a Spanish word he didn't understand.

"You speak Spanish." He stated, "And your last name is Garica?"

"Um, sort of, yes." She said, "It was my mother's maiden name, I changed it… when I started hunting."

"Vell, forgive me, but if your mother vas speaking Spanish, vy do you have…?" his voice trailed off as he pointed to her Star of David tattoo. "I am tinking all dose countries are Catholic?"

"Oh," said Paige with a light laugh,"Well, yes. They are. See, my Mom was from Mexico, my Dad was American. He was Jewish. And, my Dad didn't really care about religion and all that, so he let my Mom raise me Catholic. And… my Mom and I didn't really get along too great. Especially when I was young. I was her only kid and I think I let her down a lot. Anyways, around the time I was eighteen, I started to rebel a little. Nothing pissed my Mom off quite so much as being extra Jewish." Paige smiled, tracing her tattoo with her finger.

"You got de tattoo to annoy your moter?" asked Jakab, grinning with her, "Vy did you not get along?"

"My mother was really beautiful. So beautiful that people would stop her in the street to say something. And she was even trying to be a model for a little while, that's why she moved to the States. Then she met my Dad and married him and, well, they had me. She would always say that she would never get her figure back after she had a baby. And then I… I looked more like my father than her. I was never beautiful as she was. I think she was always a little disappointed at that."

Jakab squeezed her knee on the couch next to him.

"I tink you are beautiful."

Paige gave a disbelieving snort. She could feel her hair, greasy and dirty on her head. Her face was washed out from a combination of no sun and no make-up. She could feel herself putting on weight since she had been there. The once strong physique of her hunting workout regimen had disappeared as a result of her new inactivity. Eating had become one of the few comforts she had besides sleep, where she didn't have to pretend anything. Everything was still detached from her. She was still going through the motions of normalcy and feeling almost none of it. But food she could feel.

Jakab's hand stayed on her knee and he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. That, in itself, wasn't terribly out of the ordinary. Paige chalked it up to a European thing, Jakab giving her quick kisses on the cheeks and lips as easily and absent minded as Americans gave hugs and pats.

What was out of the ordinary was how Jakab hovered a little bit over her mouth as he pulled away. The hand on her knee stayed, then started to move upwards and upwards until it was in the crotch of her jeans.

"If you are not vanting," he said, "I von't." He looked up into Paige's face, searching it for any kind of reaction. "But it may help. It may help to feel dat again."

Paige didn't respond. She didn't move. Jakab's hand started to move against her, putting pressure against that part of her that Paige had neglected since Jo had died. Jakab wasn't unskilled, he had a natural rhythm and very accurate knowledge of the female anatomy, working her button through the fabric of her denim jeans with just the right amount of friction. Paige guessed that Jakab had been quite a ladies man before he wound up as the gay partner of a very masculine angel.

Despite his administrations, Paige felt nothing. It was almost as though she were outside of her body, watching as a chubby girl with yellow skin and dirty hair got felt up my a middle-aged Eastern European.

Jakab read her detachment and retracted his hand.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered, "I am so sorry dat I…" He stood and shook his head, turning away from her with disgust on his face, "I am a horrible man."

Paige numbly thought that, yes, he might have had a point there. Jakab's actions weren't done entirely in her best interests, but she couldn't bring herself to be upset. Instead she only felt dumb, because as Jakab's hands explored her, she had another idea.

And she felt so stupid that she hadn't thought of it before.

* * *

Gabriel felt the tug of Paige's coin somewhere in the back of his mind as he was eavesdropping on Heaven, trying to deduce what his brothers knew about his location. It seemed that after Michael had dropped Paige's soul back into her body, he left her under Gabriel's care in peace.

Of course, that simply made Gabriel more paranoid. He doubted that Michael had given up his campaign to get Gabriel back under Heaven's thumb and the silence was more unsettling than the full out attack of Raphael's.

Gabriel felt the coin again and, upon deciding that Heaven would leave him alone until at least Paige was out of his immediate vicinity, he tried to decipher the emotions through the private channel between him and the mother of the prophet he was duty bound to protect. He felt need and embarrassment and regret trickling through the line.

"Paige?" he asked stiffly as he appeared before her in the bedroom that had somehow become hers.

"Gabriel." She said, and her cold eyes looked at him with something he couldn't put his finger on. "Gabriel, I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Took you long enough."he said. Normal Paige would have rolled her eyes. Of course, normal Paige would have also washed her hair.

"I don't hate you." She said, "I was mad and hurt and I knew you'd take care of me anyways. I've never hated you. You're my best friend."

Gabriel took a deep breath as he looked down at the human. She wasn't his human like Jakab was his human. But she also wasn't just his prophet line needing to be checked up on. Paige was his friend. Gabriel had never had a human friend before.

"Anyways," said Paige, stepping towards him, "I'm sorry."

Something wasn't right. Paige was standing too close to him. Paige touched his waist hesitantly and Gabriel kicked himself for not noticing it sooner.

He had stocked the dressers of the room with women's clothing. Sweats, sweaters, dresses, underwear. All of Paige's clothes were still at Bobby's, in her suitcase. Her suitcase next to Jo's, sitting expectantly on the floor, waiting for an owner who would never return.

Normally, Paige chose the practical jeans and sweater, tonight, however, she was wearing one of the satiny negligees he had shoved in there on a lark. She smelled like Jakab's bath products and she was reaching for him.

"Paige?" He asked again, partly to confirm what she was really doing. Paige answered him by stepping on her toes to press her lips against his. She pulled one hand from his waist and slid it behind his head, locking his mouth to hers. When they broke, Gabriel just looked at her.

He realized what that emotion that he couldn't quite identify was. Desperation.

He'd had many human sexual partners. He could recognize lust in the dark, twenty miles off. Paige wasn't looking at him with lust. Plenty of humans ran towards sex to cope. One of the wide variety of self-destruction options, but Paige had never really been the self-destruction type.

She was looking at him in a desperate attempt for something he could easily give her. Paige was cold with her grief. She was numb to it, crushed under her depression and loss. She was desperate for a relief from it. And Gabriel? Just by being an angel, he was a walking, talking Prozac.

Paige turned him and started guiding him to the bed, pressing on the tops of his shoulders so that he sat on the edge. With little grace and some awkward hesitation, Paige straddled his lap. It was so like the Paige he knew before that it tugged on him a little bit. Under all the darkness, a little bit of Paige was starting to peek through.

She looked at him sadly for a moment. Searching his features for some sort of green light, some kind of permission to take what she was hungry for.

In the delicate scale of give and take, Gabriel figured that Paige owed him more than he owed Paige. Conceited as it was, he'd healed Paige, saved her lover on more than one occasion and saved her life a few times. She'd risked her life to do him a favor. She'd trusted him beyond all logic. Despite the gravity of the favors, the fact was that it was easier for Gabriel to give Paige those things than for Paige to give them to Gabriel. And despite tit for tat. Despite balance, Paige was his friend. He'd never had a human friend before.

"Are you sure?" he asked her softly, "Are you sure you want his?"

"I just want to feel something else, Gabriel," she pleaded, "I just want to feel anything at all."

Gabriel nodded his permission and Paige clamped her mouth over his again.

Gabriel couldn't make the other angels leave her alone. He couldn't send her back to Heaven. He couldn't change what was written or what would come to pass.

But he could do this.

He opened his mouth to her and Paige waited a beat before slipping her shy tongue past his lips. It always was a little surprising to Gabriel, despite the fact that it happened every time without fail, the way the human's reacted when they finally kissed him. Tongue against tongue, saliva against saliva gave humans a full assault of angel energy. Like cocaine but a million times more potent, the humans' bodies would contract with the hit, filling their brains with an overload of norepinephrine and dopamine giving them the strongest high that man could ever know without dying from the overstimulation.

Paige was no exception, pressing herself flush against him in the initial blast of it, she started kissing him hungrily, quickly. After the she got used to the high, though Paige seemed to self-regulate. She was one of the few humans who knew what to expect when they got sexual with an angel. She slowed the kiss a bit as she pulled away.

Her pupils were blown as Gabriel looked at her, but they weren't full of sexual need as much as a need for more feel good chemicals in her system. Paige started pushing Gabriel's shirt off his shoulders and kissing the skin she found there. Gabriel's heart tightened again as he felt her lips on his neck.

Humans got the hit from fluid against fluid. Sexual or saliva. As gritty as it was, Gabriel knew that Paige was not getting more than a little buzz from the skin on skin contact. She was doing it for him.

Between the clothing that she had clearly selected in an attempt to seduce him and the way her hands were massaging him, Gabriel realized that she was trying to make it good for him.

Because she may have been needing and desperate and greedy for something from him, but she was his friend.

Paige knew the logistics of it. She knew that if kissing Gabriel got her high, than true, blue, hardcore intercourse would be even more potent, and Paige was acting like a junkie looking for a stronger hit. Paige's hand found Gabriel's pants and she kissed him again as she reached for him, working him hard. Gabriel tried to make things easier, thinking of anything besides the fact that his best friend was using him. He wanted to give her some comfort in her grief, but it wasn't exactly the sexiest thought in the world.

Getting him stiff enough to do what the she needed to do, Paige lined herself up and waited a millisecond before putting him in her, sighing softly at the intrusion and the new rush of angel juice in her veins.

She wasn't wet. She wasn't prepared for him and Gabriel knew that he could reach out and stimulate her, bring her to orgasm with a few well-placed fingers and pressure. But Gabriel felt that would be too intimate. Paige didn't really want to enjoy it herself. She didn't want intimacy or sexual favors. Jo was still on her mind and in her heart. Paige wasn't ready for another sexual partner on that level.

Paige hesitated again, then started to move, rocking her body over him quickly, trying to get him to finish. Trying to get it over with. Paige may not have wanted intimacy, but this was almost hard for Gabriel to watch. His friend, falling apart.

He cupped a hand against her cheek and pressed his lips against her, trying to be reassuring. Trying to tell her that it was ok, it would all be ok.

Paige started trembling, her body racking slightly.

Then tears came. Wave after wave of tears broke free from her and she wrapped her arms around Gabriel's half naked chest. It was the first time Paige had cried since Jo had died and it was long overdue. She cried for her lost friend, her lost lover, her lost future. She cried for herself, alone again. She cried out of fear, as she was realizing that whatever the angels had planned for her was going to be bigger than she had thought before.

Gabriel wrapped his arms around her waist and rocked her like a child he was trying to soothe. It was weird to be holding someone like a child while his dick was still in them, but Gabriel managed.

What Paige had needed the entire time wasn't a hit of angel sex juice. She had needed a friend. Gabriel realized that too late. But, in his defense, he'd never had a human friend before.

Jakab walked into the room then froze as he took in the, no doubt, confusing sight before him. Gabriel, inside of Paige, who was wearing her sad little nightie, as she cried and cried into his shoulder. Jakab made to step back out of the room when Gabriel nodded him in.

He pulled out of Paige and then guided her to the bed, tucking her beneath the covers. He nodded to Jakab, who climbed into the bed with her. Then Gabriel joined his two humans, him and Jakab sandwiching Paige between them, suffocating her with the support and friendship she had needed all along.

* * *

Paige woke with Jakab early in the morning. Jakab always woke early to work out in the little gym Gabriel had fashioned in the apartment.

He smiled hesitantly at Paige, who returned it and wordlessly followed him to the gym. They worked out together, sharing little more than smiles and nods, not mentioning the night before.

For a week, Paige woke with Jakab and followed him to the gym, working out with him every day until some of the fat she had acquired in Norway started to melt away.

One day, as Paige washed herself after a workout, she let her long, smelly curtain of hair down around her face. She washed the strands tenderly, scrubbing over and over until they glistened and smelled sweetly of flowered perfume, a shampoo that Gabriel had stashed in the shower for when Paige decided to use it.

With her hair still wet, she walked out to Jakab in the living room. Jakab's eyes grew wide as he saw her hair clean. They grew even wider as Paige put a pair of scissors on top of the book he'd been reading. Paige gestured to the bottom of her chin but didn't say a word. She sat in front of him, expectantly.

Jakab quietly got a bowl and a towel from the kitchen, wrapping the towel around Paige's neck and putting the bowl under her back to catch the hair.

Paige's entire shoulders relaxed as he made the first cut. She was quiet and reverent for a bit and Jakab realized she was saying goodbye. Goodbye to more than just a foot of hair. Saying goodbye to her lover and her memory, finally putting it at rest.

Jakab worked in silence for a few minutes then Paige started to talk.

She talked about Jo. She talked about her mother. She talked about her son and John and her father and then she talked about Jo again.

When Jakab was finished he wiped the excess hair away from her face and shoulders and looked at her for a long minute. Then his eyes watered and he pulled her into a hug, long and sad.

Gabriel came home later that night and stopped short as he saw Paige with her new haircut. Her dark hair used to fall around her elbows, long and thick. Now it was cut smartly at her chin, making her look a little older. Or perhaps that was the sadness in her eyes.

"Gabriel?" Paige said softly, "I think it's time for me to go back home."

"I'm so proud of you, gummy bear." he said, smiling sadly. He reached out and ran his fingers along the sheared edge of Paige's hair.

Gabriel dropped Paige in South Dakota, outside Bobby Singer's house. Parked next to Bobby's old truck was Rufus'. Life had carried on while Paige was dead. It had carried on while Paige was in Norway. The war was still raging and the small army of "Team Free Will" was stubbornly standing, despite it's losses.

Paige was going to stand beside it. Jo would have wanted her to.

Paige turned to Gabriel, trying to say goodbye. Unable how to even find the words for her gratefulness and her affection. Gabriel saved her the trouble as he kissed her forehead. Holding her against him, quietly telling her everything she needed to hear. He held up her coin, their eternal link, and put it to Paige's collarbone. A thin copper chain slid around her neck, through the coin, anchoring it there.

"Call me when you need me." he said into her hair, "Call me when you need my protection."

"Can I call you when I need a friend?"

Gabriel nodded and pulled Paige back into an embrace.

He pulled away and Paige turned towards Bobby's. She still was a long way from normal. Still miles away from happy. But war waits for no man and Paige was OK.

OK would have to do.


	40. Chapter 40: Resurrection

As Paige walked down the stairs of Bobby's house, she heard the voices in the kitchen stop. She walked into the kitchen to see Rufus and Bobby looking guiltily up at her, making it obvious that she had been the topic of conversation.

"Hey," said Rufus in a tone that was almost unsettling in its gentility, "Hey. We called Sam and Dean. They're going to want to see you."

"Alright," said Paige with a shrug. She dropped down into the free chair next to Bobby.

The three sat in silence for a few minutes, the weight of all the unanswered questions crushing down on them. Paige was grateful that they didn't have the courage to ask her how she came back, why she came back, who wanted her here. Why her and not Jo? Why her and not Ellen? For that matter, why was Paige standing when a thousand other better, smarter, stronger hunters were still six feet under?

Paige should have been using their silence to whip up excuses. More excuses. She was so tired of lying to her friends. So tired of it all. And she was vaguely numb, still. Exhausted by the sheer effort of acting normal.

For the first time, she was being forced to interact in her new reality. Gabriel and Jakab in Norway had helped. They had been patient and real and she needed them to guide her back into the world of living. But that had been there. It had been far away from the war and house where she and Jo had been together. It was so different and yet impossibly the same. Same old house. Same rickety old chairs. Same apocalypse, but no Jo.

Paige didn't even know where to start without Jo. It felt like a horrible dream where Jo was somewhere far away and would come rounding the corner to the kitchen or climbing into Paige's bed at night. But it was real. This was what real looked like, now. She had to keep reminding herself to pay attention. It wasn't a dream. She wasn't going to wake up.

"Sam and Dean were real thoughtful," said Bobby suddenly, "They… they helped me to clean out some of you and Jo and-, well they helped pack up the stuff that was still—see, we didn't think you'd be coming back for—"

Paige watched Bobby speak, but his voice sounded far away. Almost as if he was speaking in a different language. He was pale. His beard was going grey and if Paige squinted her eyes just right they sort of blended together. Grey skin and grey hair, a blob. A blob that was talking. A blob that was waiting for her to respond_. Pay attention, Paige. You aren't waking up._

"That's fine, Bobby." Said Paige. Why did her voice sound so flat? Was it always like that? "It was real thoughtful."

The three sat in silence for a few more minutes when Paige stood. Both men watched her in mild surprise. She wasn't doing a very good job of being normal, and them staring wasn't helpful.

"I'm going to go find a hunt."

"Yeah, Paige… your laptop… We didn't think you'd be looking up hunts…"

"Oh. Right." Paige continued standing indecisively. "May I use yours?"

"Sure…" said Bobby, then, after a pregnant pause, he suddenly blurted out, "Hold up, Paige… do you think you ought to be hunting?"

Paige stared blankly at him.

"I think what Bobby's askin'" said Rufus, interjecting as Bobby fished for the right words, "Is are you in any condition to be out huntin in this state?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" asked Paige. There was that flat voice again. It was like a stranger was talking through her, "It's the apocalypse. There are only, what, six of us now?"

"Paige," said Bobby suddenly, "Don't be doin' nothin' reckless. Don't be throwin your life away."

"Because you care or because you can't?" asked Paige. Bobby looked like she had slapped him and she realized how mean her words were. She shook her head. It was real. She had just really said those words to him. _You won't wake up._

"I'm so sorry Bobby" said Paige, "I'm so sorry—"

"Grief makes people mean, Paige," said Bobby, waving his hand dismissively, though his eyes were misty, "I ain't on board with bein' your punchin' bag, but I understand. I'm grievin' too, you know."

Rufus looked down at the dining table as the two looked at each other. Bobby, the twice widower and Paige who had lost the only person she had in the world. Their shared pain should have brought them together. Isn't that what all those Hallmark cards would say? Why was it that Paige felt so far away?

Paige was the one to break the gaze first, turning and half jogging into Bobby's study.

Out of their eyesight, Paige let out a long breath. Being with people like Bobby and Rufus was exhausting. They were all looking at her so sympathetically. It was a sweet gesture, really it was, but they kept on watching her to try and guess how she was feeling. Except that Paige wasn't always a hundred percent sure of what she was feeling. She couldn't tell them what she needed because ninety percent of the time _she _couldn't always pin down what she needed.

But research she could do. A hunt she could do. It was a mystery that needed solving and then an evil son of a bitch that needed killing. No one was asking how she felt. No one was watching what she ate. She was just doing something. She was moving. Maybe not forward, in a Dr. Phil sort of way, but lord knows she couldn't sit still.

When John had died, Paige had wondered how he had used hunting to cope. Alone in a car, alone in a motel room, alone alone alone. How could anybody think about anything besides what they'd lost when they only had the memories and images in their head to pass the time?

Now Paige understood. It was easier to move, to have purpose than to sit still. Yeah, maybe those memories never went away, but at least she was doing something with her hands, with her mind, to keep moving. Maybe she wasn't moving forwards, but she was moving. Backwards, sideways or upside down, at least she was moving.

She was so engrossed in a promising salt and burn outside Wichita that Paige barely heard the Impala rumble to a park outside Bobby's house. She heard Sam and Dean walk in and started to print out the logistics to her hunt. Piling all her papers in a tidy little bundle (realizing that she didn't have a notebook or anything to put them in) Paige walked towards the voices in the kitchen.

"Yeah, we tried it all. Salt, holy water, silver. She's human. She's back."

"Yeah, but _why_?" growled Dean.

"Dunno."

"You didn't think to _ask_ her?" asked Sam, "Bobby, she could remember something. She could know more now…"

"Look, you think I'm an idjit? Of course we _wanted_ to ask her… but…"

"She ain't right," said Rufus, filling off Bobby's sentence as Bobby let it hang in the air. "She ain't evil… but… she's different. Quiet, sorta. Kinda spacey."

"How is that different?" asked Dean.

"Don't be smart, boy. You know what I mean."

"Is there any danger?" asked Sam, "Could she turn? Is it like evil different or just grieving different?"

There was silence, but Paige was sure that Bobby shrugged. Suddenly his voice rang out into the house.

"Paige, Sam and Dean are here." He called.

Paige counted to ten before she walked into the kitchen, trying to pretend that she wasn't listening to the tail end of their conversation. Rufus and Bobby were still sitting at the round kitchen table. Sam was standing next to Bobby's chair, straightening himself up as he saw her come in. Dean was leaning against the kitchen counter, looking at Paige with hard eyes. Castiel stood stiffly between Sam and Dean in the middle of the kitchen.

"Hey," she lamely to the room at large. She smiled weakly at Castiel as she saw him, "It's good to see you, Castiel." Castiel had been the last thing she saw before she died, he was trapped in a ring of Holy Fire, staring down Lucifer. It was real. Castiel was still standing in Bobby's kitchen, same kitchen where he had played drinking games with Ellen. Same kitchen where they had taken shots with Jo. This was what real looked like, now. Same angel. Same kitchen. No Jo. _You won't wake up._

Paige took a few halting steps forward and sat at the table. She looked at the four other men in the room and took a bracing breath.

"Shoot." She said, "Go ahead and ask me your questions."

"Who's vessel is she, Cas?" asked Dean suddenly as Sam open his mouth to direct his question at Paige. Eight pairs of eyes flashed to Dean and Cas. Cas tilted his head as he studied Dean.

"Is that your assumption?" he asked levelly.

"How long you been sittin' on that theory?" Bobby interjected, "Ever plannin' on sharin' it with the class?"

"What else could it be?" asked Dean, harshly, looking at Paige, "She's here, isn't she? Same as Sam and me. And," he pointed a finger at Paige, "I'm pretty sure it wasn't you that night. You got fuckin' touched by an angel and took the passenger's seat while one of Cas' siblings went for a little joyride. So, Cas, who's meatsuit is she? Assuming, of course, that that is really Paige we're talking to right now."

"I'm me," said Paige. If she were being possessed by an angel, it could at least have the decency to stem the flood of depression that she was constantly in danger of drowning in. Paige was painfully empty, not crammed full of angel grace, "And… can an angel take possession of a body without identifying themselves? I… I did give myself over to something… it promised to take care of me, keep me safe and strong, if I just surrendered complete control. And… I really thought I needed strength right then."

"Well, we avoid the term, 'possession'—" started Cas before Dean raised his eyebrows at him, "Anyways, it would appear so. I can see echoes of grace on you—from being occupied by a brother "he said quickly. He widened his eyes marginally at Paige. Paige knew that Castiel could smell Gabriel all over her, stronger, now after her desperate and pathetic rendezvous in his bedroom. So he was going to keep her secret. It was either out of love or fear of Gabriel. Paige decided she'd take it either way, "But she is not a vessel. She does not have that bloodline."

"What the fuck, then?" asked Sam, standing to his full, considerable, height and crossing his arms over his chest, "Why are Dean and I being hunted down like Bengal tigers for our pelts when, clearly, an angel can possess _anyone._"

"I… You and Dean are true vessels. In your bodies, Michael and Lucifer can achieve their full power, their full power that they would need to utilize to destroy each other. You've seen Lucifer in his current vessel, Nick. He is burning away. There have been rumors of an angel being able to, with invitation, enter a willing human, any willing human, should they need a temporary physical body on earth. It is highly dangerous and frowned upon."

Dean rolled his eyes as Cas said 'frowned upon,' and ran a hand through his hair as he vaulted himself from his spot against the kitchen counter.

"Then why is she back? Who was there that night? That night that they apparently 'needed' a meatsuit?"

"I cannot speak to why she walks the earth again, but I have theory about who was there on the night of which you speak."

"What exactly happened that night, anyways?" asked Bobby suddenly. Castiel looked at him as if he forgot that he had been there the whole time.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the floor. Paige suddenly seemed very interested in the wooden patters on the dining table. Sam sighed as he looked between the two.

"That was the first night that we all met Paige. We came across her during a hunt and she had successfully caught the monster we were all going for. We thought she might be a dealer, so we interrogated her… hunter style. Dad and I went to a friend's to drop off the trapped monster, Dean stayed behind to make sure Paige got off ok and… they had sex."

Sam rolled his eyes as Paige, Dean and Bobby all collectively cringed.

"So, someone was riding her meatsuit while she was riding Dean?" asked Rufus, bluntly.

"Looks like." Said Sam.

"Why?" Dean asked Castiel, "_Why_?"

"I… It is technically against the rules and…" Castiel started slowly.

"Spit it out, Cas." Snarled Dean.

"There are more rumors of a… game… that some of the more powerful angels play. They inhabit the lover of their true vessel and get to know that vessel on a… more intimate level."

"Possessing innocent people just to bone _other_ innocent people? That's a _game _for your kind?"

"Well, it is against the laws and codes of angels," said Cas. He grew frustrated as Dean let out a disbelieving guffaw, "Do you not remember how severely my brothers obey the rules laid down for them? How they kill those that disobey? It has become increasingly clear to me, after my rebellion, that what an angel _can _do and what they are _allowed_ to do are entirely different things. My theory is that it was a great and powerful angel who entered her. One who was so high up that they had no need to fear the law. I believe it was an archangel."

Paige's stomach suddenly began to curdle. An archangel. An archangel who enjoyed sex and wasn't afraid to break the rules. Her skin turned to ice as she realized that possessing someone to hook up with someone else sounded horrifically familiar. Gabriel might not do that to her now that they were friends, but before Seattle, before D.C., before everything that they had been through together… that sounded exactly like something that Gabriel would consider funny.

She remembered leaving Dean cuffed to the bed. Gabriel had taken great pleasure in his sport as the Trickster, and that was magnified tenfold when it came to knocking Sam and Dean down a peg or two.

"Like Gabriel?" asked Sam. Paige hoped she didn't turn pink as Sam pinpointed her theory with laser accuracy. Sam rolled his eyes, exasperated, "Of course it was him," He let out a long frustrated breath, "He always thought it was extra funny to fuck with us. Literally, apparently."

Dean nodded and clenched his fist. Paige was very, _very_ glad that Castiel had decided to keep her friendship with the infamous angel under wraps.

"That was not my initial thought," Castiel interjected. Sam and Dean looked at him disbelievingly, "Gabriel has a true vessel. One whose appearance he can alter. Paige and Dean had no longstanding established relationship, it would have been easier for Gabriel to take on the appearance of a comely woman in a bar if he had been so intent on seducing Dean. Lucifer still resided in Hell and… Raphael hates the human act of sex."

"_Michael?"_ asked Paige suddenly, speaking for the first time in a while, "You think _Michael_ possessed me? I thought the vessels became vegetables once an archangel left."

"Yes well, it appears she was healed almost instantaneously after Michael vacated her body. If Gabr—" Castiel froze. Well, so much for that.

Sam and Dean rounded on him with narrowed and suspicious eyes.

"I could have sworn you almost said 'Gabriel.'" Barked Dean.

"He did." Said Paige quietly.

Paige could not have stunned them all into silence more if she had told them she was a hippo.

"You mean to tell me," Dean said slowly, obviously taking great care as he chose his words, "That you've got an _arch_angel on your shoulder and we've been running around here, playing in the minor leagues? And not just any archangel, but the guardian angel of deusheyness? You could have unleashed him on Lucifer. You could have sent him up against Michael. What the fuck were you thinking, waiting until _now_ to bring this up? We could have used his help a few dozen hunters ago."

Paige gave a choked laugh.

"Have you _met _Gabriel? You think he'd do something just because I asked? Directing Gabriel is like trying to tell a comet where to fall. He's going to do what he's going to do. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it isn't but I have no more control over him than you have over Castiel."

"That's real sweet. Live and let live. See, I used to be able to respect that until mother fucking angels started shredding my life apart at the seams." Dean said sharply, "Including your little feathery dick wad. You _make _him help us. You could end this tonight. Do you even care about the war anymore? About the end of the world?"

Paige was taken aback by the question. Did she care? Losing Jo had made her feel so powerless, a feeling she was already well acquainted with, thanks to an apocalypse with all the angels in Heaven and the Demons of Hell arming up, ready to see the thing through. Paige was hollow and floating. She barely cared about herself. A world full of people she didn't know? A world full of people she had already saved a thousand times and got nothing in return but heartache? She was a shadow that flitted into people's lives and left before they knew she was there. Why was it her job to protect strangers at the expense of her friend, her _Jo_?

But then, if Jo were there, she'd roll her eyes at Paige and say something like, "because someone has to," or "because everyone deserves to be saved" or even simply, "it's our job." But Jo wasn't there. Jo was dead. Jo was dead and now Paige had to figure out who she was in this world without her.

Jo would want her to keep fighting. To save all the people in the world who would never know her name. All the people who would never know she walked the Earth. Paige was pretty sure that she herself didn't care, but Jo had. Jo had died for it.

And this was Paige's chance to make up for all those nights she had Jo in her arms but hadn't said the words Jo so willingly gave away. _I love you._

This was how Paige could tell Jo, _I love you, too._

"No." said Paige simply and Dean took a step back in surprise. No one had expected that answer from her, "Everyone I love is dead. I fight and fight and fight and I can't get ahead. I just can't. And finally, _finally_ after fighting and losing again and again I died… and I think I was happy. I think I was with Jo. That's how it's supposed to be. You fight, you lose, and you get paradise as your consolation prize. Now I'm here with you. Again. I'm so tired of fighting.

"But Jo would keep fighting. Jo would fight, tooth and nail until the bitter end and then get back up and keep swinging. I'm not Jo, I just loved her. I would fight any war she would fight. So, here I am, beside you, but I'm not a package deal. I can't get Gabriel to fight with us. I can't make Gabriel do anything he doesn't want to."

Dean scratched his chin as he thought, then he reached into his pants and pulled out his gun, pointing it at Paige.

"Dean—" barked Sam. The room grew tense and silent, Sam hovering next to his brother, as if trying to decide if Dean was bluffing. Rufus half stood out of his chair. Paige simply looked down the barrel of his gun, then let her eyes trace up to Dean's arm and hand holding the weapon.

"What if I empty this case into your skull? Would that make Gabriel do something?"

"Probably," Paige said calmly, "But they would just bring me back to earth. I don't know why they brought me back either, but they can't seem to let me be dead. Do you really think I haven't tried that myself?" she asked softly.

Dean lowered his gun, but turned his back on her.

"If you don't care, why don't you just go, then?" Bobby, Sam and Rufus all looked at Dean's hard shoulders as Dean faced his hands against the kitchen counter. "If you can't help us, you might as well be with them."

"That's how it is, then?" asked Paige softly, "Cold War mentality? With us all the way or against us? Some 'Team Free Will.' Why do you get to save your brother? Those angels are Gabriel's family. You want him to kill his brother so you don't have to kill Sam. How is that fair? He isn't standing in your way. Why can't you let him be?"

"Why the _fuck_ are you defending him?" barked Dean, "He's not being sentimental, he's being a _coward_. I can't even look at you. Welcome back to earth, Paige. You've got the power of Heaven at your fingertips and the world is still shit. Thanks for everything."

Paige stood.

"I'm sorry I'm not her." She said. "I'm sorry I'm not Jo or Ellen." She looked over at Bobby as she said the last part, "I'm sorry that out of all your friends, you got me back from the dead. Take consolation in the fact that I didn't want to come back. Take consolation in the idea that I would rather be dead too."

No one responded, so Paige nodded and walked out the front door, into the biting cold of the night. She started walking down Bobby's long driveway.

She could have called Gabriel. Gotten teleported to a nice hotel with warm clothes and let him take care of her again. But for the first time in a long time, with the road under her feet, Paige felt like she was alive. Alive in this new world without Jo. And it wasn't comfortable, but Paige was doing it.

She needed to get to her next hunt, she needed to get back to normal without Gabriel's help. She needed to do it here, in the States with humans.

Paige was about three miles down the road when she was splashed in headlights. She stuck her thumb out, trying to flag the car down. It slowed and pulled over. Paige climbed into Rufus' truck.

"I guess I'm going to the nearest town." she said, "As close as you can get me to Souix Falls, would be great."

"How about Montana?" asked Rufus, his eyes still on the road. "You haven't got credit cards or fake ids. How are you going to start hunting again without them?"

"Thanks Rufus. That's generous." said Paige.

"It's decent." said Rufus, "We take care of our own, so long as 'our own' aren't killing people or hurting anyone. You don't have to explain yourself to me. In fact, don't explain yourself to me. I don't want to hear it."

Paige nodded and looked out the window.

"Have you been at Bobby's this whole time?" she asked quietly, "Taking care of him?"

Rufus shrugged.

"We been taking care of each other. Ellen wasn't just _Bobby's_ friend, Jo wasn't just your girlfriend. We all care about them. We all mourn them."

"What happened between you and Bobby all that time ago?" asked Paige, "You guys are such good friends, what could have possibly happened?"

Rufus didn't respond to Paige's question, so she let it hang in the air.

"Shorter." he said suddenly, changing the subject. He gestured to his chin and glanced at Paige out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah," said Paige, running the short edge of her hair through her fingers, letting him change the subject, "Shorter."

"Better." said Rufus with a curt nod, as if that decided things.

"Thanks, Rufus." said Paige. She was thanking him for picking her up, thanking him for helping her hunt, thanking him for not attacking her about Gabriel. She needed to do things in this new reality, this reality without Jo, without the archangel's help. She loved Gabriel, and she was grateful to Gabriel, but she had to take control of her human life without his help. But she didn't have to do it alone. Rufus knew that she was thanking him for everything in that single word.

Rufus nodded again and that was that.

They drove in silence until morning.

* * *

**Ok, kids. I have been neglecting to leave author's notes because it has been such an emotionally dense chunk of chapters and I didn't want to break it up with my needless chatter. But, Paige is getting her shit together now, so I can leave a little message for everyone. **

**First, I'd like to apologize for going almost TWO weeks since updating. I really am sorry. This is my favorite story going and I hate that I don't have time to give it the attention (I think) it deserves. I've got school and work and apartment hunting and more work (paychecks help with the apartment searching.) Often I have to decide between my baby (this) or one of my other stories to update that week. And I just started ANOTHER one. Because I'm a masochist. **

**So, this can be construed as either bitchy or passive aggressive (your choice,) but I really want 100 reviews. Like really badly. Pathetically desperately, if you will. So, until I get 100 reviews (that's only 10 more, you guys!) I'm going to focus on some of my other stories. BUT within 12 hours of getting my 100th review, I am going to update. Promise, pinky swear, blood oath. **

**Now, I've got a couple of loyal reviewers and I hope I'm not being too presumptuous when I assume that they will leave me something. That means that really I only need 7 reviews. AND you don't have to be a member to post on any of my stories. You can leave a review as a guest. **

**Anything is appreciated, even if you just tell me that you're still reading and I'm a total needy bitch for doing this. **

**It's an all tomato. ****You give me the whole tomato. Or else. (P.S. if you can tell me where that is from, it will count as two reviews.)**

**I love you all, but it is time for some tough love. Reviews please! **


	41. Chapter 41: Uncle Tim's Cabin

**Ok. You called my bluff. I can't NOT write. Obviously. If I could, I'd probably have a better GPA. Please keep leaving reviews though! Honestly, they make me so happy and it only takes you a second to be like, 'whaddup.' Anyways, here's the next chapter! I already have the other half of this hunt partly written, so it should be up sometime later this week. I've got two finals tomorrow, so, obviously I had to update my story. **

**Just a good old fashioned hunt. **

**Review review review!**

* * *

"Paige, it's Bobby. I… I don't blame ya for leavin' like that. Dean… Dean's under a lotta stress, whole world dependin on him and his brother and all. He took it out on you, and that wasn't fair.

Rufus gave me this number and said you went out on a hunt alone. And I mean what I said, Paige. Don't do nothin' reckless. Don't throw your life away 'cause some of us can't lose anyone else. We mourned you. We all did. I don't wanna do it again, so keep your shit together.

Call me back, Paige. Call me or text me 'cause I just wanna know you're ok. I… I …

Just, don't be dumb, Paige. We all still need you."

* * *

The sun was just beginning to peek up over the tree line as Paige drove Rufus' old truck into Jefferson, Ohio. She swallowed a yawn as she had been driving all night. Alone.

Pulling into the motel where she would be staying, Paige slung her bag over her shoulder and her new laptop under her arm; all hand-me-downs of Rufus' hunting gear. They had said goodbye with nods and a handshake. No tearful hugs. To heart to hearts. Just a firm clasp of hand and a nod of parting. It was absolutely perfect.

Walking in the door, Paige rang the bell on the counter and checked her phone while she waited. She deleted the voicemail in her inbox just as the teenager came yawning into the office.

"Yo," he said in greeting without much enthusiasm.

"Good morning. I need a room for a few days."

He nodded and started clicking on the computer on his desk.

"How many beds?"

"Just one."

"Cool. Cool, cool." He said. "What brings you to Jefferson?"

Awesome. It was one of _those _small towns. "Just some work." Paige said evasively.

"You in town with all those psychics and stuff? Those freaks who started turning up when those guys died?"

"Been getting a lot of those?" she asked. Her tone was conversational but her eyes searched his features for any kind of reaction.

"Yeah." Said the kid rolling his eyes. "One of them is staying here, so watch out for you aren't going to tell me my fortune, what are you doing here?"

"The deaths. Did you know any of the guys?"

"Everyone knew them. I went to school with Dominic and everyone knew Victor. He was a really cool guy. Used to come around to the school and talk about fulfilling ourselves and shit." His eyes glazed over and he quickly looked back down to the computer, as if whatever was on the screen would be of vital importance one day. "I mean, you know, growing up in a small town… Not many people get out or become 'somebody.' We all just sort of end up working where our parents worked and marrying kids we've known since we were three. It was nice having someone say that it could happen. That we could do all those things."

"I'm so sorry for your loss." Said Paige. The kid shrugged and rubbed his nose as he handed her the room key. Suddenly his face fell as he saw something over her shoulder.

"Sophie!" called a round, balding red headed man as he made his way to her, "Sophie, my dear, you're a vision." He laughed to himself for a beat or two too long. Paige looked over her shoulder to the kid behind the counter. He gave her an apologetic smile.

"I don't believe I know you," said Paige as he released her, "You must have me mistaken for someone else."

"No! No!" the man said shaking his head emphatically, "No! Child, of course I'm scaring you. You've been through so much. Especially as of late. Sweet thing, to lose a loved one. So young as well. Jo was a one of a kind soul that glimmers like a star in your hair. Figuratively speaking of course. You should never trust a star." He nodded seriously.

"Oh, of course," said Paige suddenly, putting her hand on his shoulder, a little shorter than hers. "Let's go outside where we can talk". He grinned broadly and led the way out to the parking lot, where Paige's car was. The teenage kid looked skeptical at the idea of Paige following the stranger outside.

"It's fine." Paige said, over her shoulder, giving him a weak grin, "I'm tougher than I look."

Once the bell on the office door chimed, signifying that the door had shut behind them, Paige grabbed the chubby bald man and pinned him against the wall. She made sure they were out of the eyesight of the kid at the counter.

"Ok. What's your name? How do you know so much about me?" snapped Paige, "No funny business now."

To Paige's utter confusion, the man didn't seem afraid in the slightest. His shiny cheeks bunched up, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle as he smiled at her.

"Well, of course. I'm Tim."

"Tim?"

"Tim." He repeated and then opened his eyes wide as though he expected her to remember him. She just gave him a stone cold stare back.

"How do you know so much about me?" she snapped.

"A little birdie told me." He said, then began laughing at his own joke again. Paige cut it off by pressing her elbow into his throat.

"Try again," she growled as he gasped for air under her.

"I _told you_." He pleaded, "A birdie. Well, the tree told the birdie. I never know about the birds but you can always trust the trees."

After a moment, Paige loosened her grip. The man was absolutely batshit.

"The bird told me that you would be here and that you would need my help." He straightened his spine and gave her a salute, like a soldier, though his round beer belly and short stature made the action ridiculous rather than comforting. "So, I'm here to help."

"How can you help me?"

"Well," he said, rolling his eyes as if it was obvious, "The birds and the trees don't talk to you. They talk to me, though."

"And what did they tell you?"

"They told me to tell you to look under the train for the thing that isn't there. Then you'll find the person who was no more and the person that should not still be."

"I don't suppose they gave you an English translation of that." She said, shaking her head. He looked at her as though he didn't understand the words coming out of her mouth. Well, that made two of them. Her shoulders dropped and she secured her bag over her arm. "Thanks… Tim." She said, "But I won't be needing any help right now. I do need some sleep, though. I'll see you later."

She started to walk away from him.

"Start with the train!" he called to her back, "Start under the train!"

* * *

"Damn it, Paige, you better not have deleted that message without even listnin'. You probably did. Idjit. You ever stop to think that I still want to help? That just 'cause I'm stuck here, in this chair by myself, I can't help you with the hunt or the IDs or _anything_?

"Sam and Dean ain't here no more. They left so you can go ahead and call, not have to worry about one of them hearin nothin. Idjits, the lot of ya. Why you always gotta jump down each other's throats? Don't you go thinkin' that just cause you didn't yell back you ain't part of the problem. Dean yells. You run. And it ain't doin' a lick of good to no one, no one except angels and demons lookin to tear the world a new hole just for bein in the way.

"So, would you call me back? Please? There. Happy? I said it. _Please._ Let me know you're alive or, so help me Paige, I'll kill ya."

* * *

Paige was walking with her laptop under her arm on her way to a local diner for lunch when she saw the kid from the motel office at the bus stop. He was wearing the kind of headphones that even Paige was too young for; with the big plastic lining that took up more than half of his head.

She smiled at him as she passed, but when he saw her he jumped up and jogged after her.

"Lady! Yo, lady!" he called. Paige stopped and waited for him to catch up to her. "Hey, you ok? That Tim guy didn't cut you up into little tiny pieces and throw you into the lake then."

"No." said Paige, shaking her head. She looked at the kid for an extra second, "Shouldn't you be in school or something?"

"No mam, I graduated." The kid threw on a cocky grin and shrugged his shoulders. When Paige raised her eyebrows, he nervously and scratched the back of his head, "Fine, I, uh, dropped out." He quickly changed the subject, "So, you got any info on the guys who died?"

"I'm afraid not. I'm going to get some breakfast and do some more research."

"Sounds good." Said the kid and he started walking with her towards the diner. Paige froze and he took a few more steps before turning to see why she wasn't following him.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, almost amused by his overconfidence.

"I'm gonna help you." He said simply, "Sophie."

"Don't call me that."

"You prefer 'Mam' or 'Julie'?" he asked, then grinned as he saw Paige's face fall. She had used one of her fake credit cards under the name Julie Michaels and then wandered off with someone who called her by a different name. "I won't rat you out. But don't you pretend anything anymore. The least you can do, for making me an accomplice in your petty crime, _Julie, _is buy me some breakfast."

He started walking towards the diner again and this time, Paige followed him, smiling at the precocious teen who was now, apparently, a part of her hunt.

* * *

His name was Clinton and he ate his way through three short stacks of pancakes and a vanilla milkshake while Paige clicked on her laptop, her fruit salad being picked at slowly over the course of a few hours.

"So," said Clinton, trailing his french fry through a blob of ketchup, "That Tim guy is crazy."

"Crazy, yes." Said Paige, stretching her shoulders as she pulled herself away from her laptop, finding nothing but dead ends anyways, "But he is also the real deal."

"Real deal? Like a _real_ psychic?"

"I think so, yes."

"You telling me that, smart lady like you believes in psychics?"

"If you're going to laugh and scoff, you can just go on back to the bus stop." Said Paige, "You can leave the milkshake and french fries."

Clinton rolled his eyes but made a slurping sound as his straw claimed whatever was left of the vanilla shake at the bottom of the glass. Paige sighed and gestured to the waitress for another one.

"So. Your name is really Sophie?"

"I told you not to call me that. I won't do it again. Be warned."

"And, that guy, Jo, was like your boyfriend or something?"

"Or something."

"So-"

"Clinton, this had better be about the murders or I am leaving you here."

The kid shrugged like he didn't care as the waitress put another milkshake in front of him.

"I see no connection between Victor and Dominic." Said Paige, taking a bite of fruit as she looked at the computer screen, "I mean, they both were at your school for a hot minute. That's about it."

Clinton shrugged, chewing his straw.

"It was a pretty cool day. We took a field trip and then Victor was all talking about our past and our future potential and shit."

"Wait, hold up." Said Paige flipping through the notes she had forced from Clinton when they first sat down, "You never said anything about a field trip."

"Well, 'field trip' is a strong phrase. Everyone in this town goes there every year, sometimes twice a year since we were about seven. It's just this old farm house museum thing."

"Museum?" asked Paige, excitedly. Museums to ghosts were like honey pots to flies.

"Another strong word," said Clinton, cautiously.

"There isn't a train that goes through this town, is there?" asked Paige abruptly, "There isn't a museum for a train, is there?"

Clinton gave her an odd look.

"No. Not like _train_ train. But that old farm house got turned into a museum because it was a stop on the underground railroad."

* * *

Tatiana James was a small woman with thick glasses and a surprising smattering of pretty freckles against her coffee and cream complexion. Despite the obvious prescription of her lens, she tended to squint, as though people in front of her were a very small and irritating text she had to read. But, despite her age, she could hear a pin drop, or gum snap or loud music, even from old fashioned and well insulated headphones, or so Clinton had warned Paige.

The odd pair walked into the museum just as Tatiana started to pull the curtains shut in front of the windows. Paige shot Clinton a dirty look as Tatiana closed up.

"I'm sorry," she said, "You're closing, I'll come back tomorrow."

Tatiana made a motherly gesture of 'nonsense' and walked over to them, her small feet shuffling quickly across the creaky floorboards.

"Clinton," she said as she squinted at him, recognizing him despite the fact that he hadn't said a word, "Why aren't you in school?"

"Dropped out, Miss James, remember?" She shook her head and made a 'harrumph' sound, pulling her knitted shawl around her shoulders regally.

"You guys know each other?" asked Paige.

"Small town," Tatiana said warmly, a complete 180 degree change from her icy and scolding tone to Clinton, "Everyone knows everyone. I knew Clinton since he was in diapers. A little later than most his peers, if I remember."

"_Miss James,_" hissed Clinton, lowly.

"Ahh. So, I remember correctly, then." She said, smiling to herself. She turned her warm gaze back up to Paige, "So, dear, you're from out of town. What brings you to our lovely little museum?"

"Julie is a masters student," Clinton supplied quickly, "She's writing about the underground railroad, so of course I had to show her the place."

Paige had her hand in her pocket around her fake press badge, ready to pull out her old 'reporter' excuse, but as Tatiana heard, "masters student" she beamed so wide it made Paige a little sad to know that it was a lie.

"Well, that's marvelous!" she said excitedly, linking her arm around Paige's and leading her around towards the exhibits. "Truly marvelous. I always figured that more students should be out here. Maybe we should have made some flyers or brochures or something. We're walking on real American history, dear, and we hardly get any outside visitors. Or I figured we should have made one of those email pages?"

"Websites, Miss J" Clinton offered from a step behind them as he started to follow Paige and Tatiana around the museum. Tatiana made the 'harrumph' sound again and ignored him.

"This is Billy Daven. This was his house in 1854 and one of the last stops that a lot of runaway slaves made before they got to Canada. " said Tatiana as they stopped in front of an old tin print of a whiskery man in a suit that was probably quite stylish at the time. He stood seriously, looking out at the world as it changed in front of his frame. "Mr. Daven was a respectable lawyer and a very outspoken abolitionist in his time. Maybe a little too outspoken for his own good." She said darkly.

"What happened to him?" asked Paige as Tatiana led her to the next exhibit in the old house.

"Well, depends on who is telling the story," she said with a sad chuckle. "See, he was murdered. Found with his neck stabbed from behind. I say it was probably a slave catcher. You see, slave holders in the south would pay an awful lot of money to the men who brought their property back to them. Slaves weren't cheap and the men who owned them were willing to pay a lot to have them back, even if just to make an example." Paige nodded. It made sense. Especially since Victor and Dominic had been found, face in the ground, with their necks sliced open from behind.

"The other story belongs to those who like a little romance." She said with a gentle smile. They paused in front of a second tin print. It had three black women standing as stiff as Bill Daven had, but their clothes were simple white dresses rather than high fashion suits. Tatiana pointed to the tallest one with a long neck and high cheekbones. She would have been beautiful if it weren't for the lines across her face. They looked harsh and unreal, like they had been earned through hard life and neglect rather than simple time. "That is Lily. Lily and a couple of other women who hung around instead of moving on to Canada."

"It wasn't uncommon," said Tatiana, "For women, especially, to stay behind and wait for family or friends to pass through. A little dangerous, but they did it anyways. Women have always done what needed to be done to keep their loved ones close. Women have always been stronger than men, when they needed to be." Tatiana gave Paige's hand a squeeze. Clinton rolled his eyes behind them.

"Anyways," said Tatiana, ignoring Clinton again, "the legend goes that Lily got pregnant around the time that her brother finally came through. He was furious. He claimed that it was Bill Daven's baby and he didn't want his sister giving birth to it. Rumor is that, in a fit of rage, he killed both Bill and Lily before he killed himself. Racism is a two way street. Mixed race babies didn't do well on either side of the border."

"Isn't it funny how these little love stories spring up and stick, even after all this time?" She said, shaking her head sadly, "No one knows what happened between them. It's lost to time and memory."

"And it's a shame, because Lily was actually a pioneer of the railroad. See this quilt? Lily made it and scholars now a days say that there were messages coded into the blanket to help other slaves on the run. Most slaves couldn't read, see? And they'd need a code anyways, so that slave catchers wouldn't be able to figure it out." Tatiana led Paige to the great quilt pinned to the wall of the house. The patches of the quilt were an eclectic mix of designs and colors, creating chaos. Tatiana looked for a minute before pointing to a small square that Paige wouldn't have even noticed if it wasn't pointed out for her. "See this? A light house. Saftey. Over here? A wolf. A dangerous man. The sea? Freedom."

Tatiana's cataract clouded eyes looked at Paige, shimmering with excitement as she showed Paige the quilt, like it was very important that Paige understand every stitch and detail of it. Paige looked at it for a long minute, forcing herself to be coldly professional.

She looked for a drop of blood. A piece of hair. Anything that would keep a ghost tied to the place. It could have been anything at all. A hair. A piece of dead skin. A dried tear drop. But what would trigger the haunting? No mysterious deaths in the sleepy little town for a hundred years and suddenly two within a week of each other? Something woke the spirit up.

"I want you to make sure that you tell everyone that you saw this quilt here first." Said Tatiana with determination, "I want you to make sure they know it was here. The owner just sold it to some fancy museum at some fancy university." There was a bitterness in her voice that Tatiana quickly corrected after she remembered herself, "It doesn't belong to us," she said, but she didn't seem to believe her own words, "It belongs to our country. They can take better care of it in that museum, far away, than I can here. It belongs there. It belongs where people can study it and research it." She crossed her arms in front of her chest and rubbed her upper arms, "It's time for the quilt, for the stories of the quilt, to move on. To belong to someone else. Anyone else. What good is a story like Lily and Bill's if no one ever hears it?"

Paige patted Tatiana on the shoulder.

"I'm so sorry." She said softly, "When did they sell it?"

Tatiana sighed and rubbed her misty eyes. "About a week ago." She said.

Ah. There it was.

* * *

"You know what? Fuck you, Paige. Yeah. Fuck you. You think that just because you lost someone special, your whole goddamn world, you get to be a bitch? What about me, huh? Why doesn't anyone wanna give a fuck about me?

Fuck, fuck, fucked up and fucked over. You think Sam and Dean are over here, holdin' my hand? You think I got some Dr. Phil shrink up my sleeve? All I got's a bottle. One less bottle, as of about an hour ago, but I got plenty more. Killed this one already. Went down like water. Maybe if I kill another one, I'll finally kill over myself. Dean and Sam can't talk for shit, but they can bring me booze by the truckful and they did.

If they weren't so fucked up themselves, it'd be called enablin' but they're just as screwed up as me so it's just bein' neighborly when they do it. Then they left. They left me alone with the booze to soothe my grief and fuck them, but most of all, fuck you. They answer when I call. They don't know what to say, but they fucking answer. Fucked up. I'm fucked up. They're fucked up. The world's fucked up. Fuck.

So, you're just being a fucking bitch. That's right. I forgot why I called for a minute, but that's it. Fucking selfish, entitled, spoiled rotten bitch. Everyone takes care of sad little Paige. Everyone wants to screw or love or whatever little pretty Paige whose just so damn fragile. Like a little china doll or some shit. And you're just throwin it away so you can be strong or tragic or some fucked up shit like that. So fuck you.

You know that last person who called me, like I been callin' you, blew herself up to smithereens. Sam said it was real heroic like. One arm around her daughter, the other on the button and then they left her there. And if I coulda walked, if I could fight, I coulda pushed that button. I coulda helped or at least I coulda died. She used to give a fuck. Now she's gone. She left and she never fuckin' came back.

Just like you.

But she was real heroic. And she was real strong. You're just a fucking bitch, so fuck you. Don't worry. I won't be botherin' you no more. You need help you can just run to fucking Rufus. Fucking Rufus. You want fucked up, just sit down with him. Fucked up, fucked over asshole is what he is. Trust him with something and he'll just fuck it up. Of just fuck it. Yeah. Yeah. Fuck. That's Rufus alright.

So fuck you, bitch. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. I was fine before you came into my life. I was fine before Ellen. I wasn't happy, but I was fine. I'll be fine again. No thanks to you. Bitch.


	42. Chapter 42: Uncle Tim's Cabin II

There was a knock on the door to her motel room. Paige shoved her cellphone under her pillow and took the shotgun from behind the bed. One in the morning was too early or too late for innocuous visitors. Holding the shotgun to the back of the door she opened it and poked her head out.

Tim, wearing pajama pants and a sweatshirt, smiled happily as he saw her, either not noticing or not caring about the scowl on her face. He raised his eyebrows expectantly as though waiting for her to invite him in. Paige looked down. He wasn't wearing shoes. She sighed and stepped aside.

He was holding a jar of peanut butter with a plastic spoon sticking out of it. Paige was too tired to put up an argument and she dropped back into the chair she had occupied before. He happily tottered in and plopped down on the bed, as though he couldn't imagine any place more fun to be.

"Tim, tell me that you have more to eat than that." She said with her head in her hand after she looked at him for a long minute.

Tim looked at the jar in his hand and seemed surprised to find it there. He looked to her, as though she would be able to explain it to him. Paige gave a sleepy eye roll and walked over to the motel phone, vaguely wondering how Tim functioned as she ordered him a pizza. He wandered around without shoes and he didn't seem to be able to feed himself properly. But he was clean. And he managed to buy a motel room.

"You found the train," he said proudly, as though she was his child who had just taken her first steps. Paige was too occupied by stress and lack of sleep to be annoyed. She pulled her knees up to her chest.

"You were right about the train. Did the bird tell you anything else?" she asked him. He shrugged and shook his head before shoveling a huge wad of peanut butter into his mouth. His lips smacked loudly as he tried to eat the dry paste and Paige got up to dump her cold coffee into the bathroom sink, filling it with water and handing him her mug. He smiled gratefully.

Paige heard another knock on the door and grabbed the gun she had left by the entry. Too early for the pizza to have arrived.

"Hey," she said, opening the door to let Clinton in without question. His panicked expression was reason enough to earn her attention. He stepped in without hesitation but stopped short as he saw Tim on the bed with his dirty bare feet and peanut butter. Paige shrugged. Then Clinton saw the gun in her hand and froze all over again.

"Who the hell are you people?" he asked, but a they must not have been that intimidating because he let the door shut behind him.

"Tim, psychic, a little crazy. Harmless. Maybe." She said. Tim waved as she reintroduced him, "Paige. Hunter. Ghost killer. Life saver." She held out her hand as though expecting him to shake it. He ignored this and sat at the table where Paige had been, flipping through her notes. "Make yourself at home." She mumbled, placing the gun back against the wall and running her hand through her hair as she sat back down in the chair on the opposite side of the table.

"Good." Said Clinton, after a minute, "It's good that you're crazy 'cause this is gonna sound bananas. There's something I didn't tell you about Dominic… he told me about this really weird dream he had and I think I just had it and I'm kinda fucking freaking out a bit."

"A dream? _A DREAM? __Why_ didn't you tell me about Dominic's dream?! I told you to tell me everything. Then I bought you breakfast."

"I didn't know you wanted me to tell you _that._ What? You also want his sexual fantasies? Want to know what he was for Halloween last year? How the fuck was I supposed to know you needed to know about his _dreams?"_

"Sophie," Tim said suddenly. Clinton and Paige both ignored him.

"Ok, what was your dream? This ghost is killing people and if it just gave you a heads up, we need to know so we can keep you safe. We don't really have time for me to ease you into this, so humor me."

"Sophie?" Tim said again, pleading almost. He was ignored again.

"So, I was just sleeping, sort of… just now… at work… and I was like, in the office and then she was just there. She was just there in my face screaming at me and crying, I think? I couldn't tell you where I was or what I was doing because it was all just her, screaming at me."

"Not a threat, then. It was a warning. That's even odder. Who was it, Clinton? Do you remember who she was?"

"Sophie?" Tim asked again, his voice growing thin and needy.

"I don't know. I think it was just the dream, you know. I mean, we were _just _at the museum. And she was in that picture, and…."

"Was it Lily?" asked Paige. "Lily disappeared. Lily disappeared before Bill Daven died and no one ever saw her again. She could have been in Canada or she could have been killed. Was it her, Clinton? I need to fucking know."

Clinton nodded.

"_Sofia escucha me AHORA." _Tim yelled.

Paige and Clinton's jaws dropped to the floor collectively as they finally turned their attention to Tim. Only one person ever called Paige, 'Sofia.'

"Did he just…?" asked Clinton, but Paige stood quickly and walked over to the bed, kneeling on the floor beside Tim. Tim's eyes were slammed shut and he swayed in his chair as if he were drunk. His face was scrunched up like he was fighting a bad nightmare and it hurt him greatly.

"Mama?" asked Paige, laying her hand on Tim's forearm. At her touch, Tim snapped up, like a puppet on strings. His eyes were wide and unblinking, focused on something far away. "Mama, estoy escuhando."Paige tried again.

"Esposa, mija, esposa." Said Tim frantically, "No tengo mucho tiempo, un psiquico es un calle abierto. Hay muchas espirtu que quiere estar aqui."

"No entiendo, mama." Said Paige, searching Tim's face, "Ayuda me, mama. Por favor," Paige's voice grew heavy and thick with tears.

Her father had always been the one with the hug. Her father had always been the one who said what needed to be said, with the knack for drying tears. But her mother had been hard as ice. Unbreakable. Paige needed that strength now.

"Necisito te, mama. Ayuda me." Paige's eyes swam and Tim smiled vacantly, wiping a tear from her cheek before going rigid and grimacing again.

* * *

"So." Said Clinton, "Let me get this straight. The ghost from my nightmare is real. That guy is a psychic and you just had a medium moment with your dead mother?"

Paige nodded, lifting Tim's head to place a pillow under it. After her mother had left, Tim fell back on the bed and hadn't moved for a few minutes.

"Maybe this is that thing where you have a dream, but then that dream goes into another dream. So, I'm still asleep and this is just a weird thing I'll wake up from and probably not even remember."

"So, pinch yourself or something, then." Said Paige, "This isn't a dream, Clinton. Sorry. Usually I can tell because time moves too slowly. When you dream, things go fast. It's event based, you know? So, in real life there's downtime. Time moves consistently slowly and you aren't always doing something every minute. So, when I'm not doing anything, I know I'm not asleep."

"Did this happen to you a lot?" asked Clinton, "I assume you weren't born with a gun in your hand. Did this happen when you first started hunting ghosts?"

"More recently, actually." Said Paige, evasively. Clinton opened his mouth to speak but then there was a knock on the door for a third time that night. Paige stood, grabbing her wallet, to pay for the pizza. Clinton eyed the box hopefully. His face fell when he looked inside.

"What the fuck is that?" he asked as he saw it.

"Pizza."

"That's not pizza. That's a travesty."

"Look. Pizza sauce. Pizza crust. Vegetables. See? Pizza."

"No meat. No _cheese_? _Vegetables?_"

"You could use a vegetable in your life. If you don't want it, don't eat it." She said as she helped herself to a slice and opened her laptop. Clinton wrinkled his nose.

"Esposa. _Esposa_." Paige mulled the word over.

"What is that? The ghost's name? A ghost killing ritual?"

"It means 'wife.' _Wife?_ Did Bill Daven have a wife?" she asked. Clinton shrugged. Paige started looking through the papers again. There was no record of Bill Daven having a spouse. He seemed to be married to his work and his cause.

"Esposa." Tim mumbled softly from the bed. His eyes were open and he looked along the ceiling of the room, as though trying to remember how he got there. Clinton sat next to Tim on the bed.

"Hey man. You speaking English again? We got pizza, if you're hungry. Well. Sort of. Pizza is a loose term." Tim sat up and gratefully accepted the slice that Clinton handed him.

He looked at Paige.

"Esposa." He said, and he crinkled his brow as he tried to help her figure out what it meant. He finished his slice of pizza and started rubbing his wrist absently as he thought. "Esposa" he tried again. Suddenly he looked down at his gesture and then back up at Paige. He held his hand over his wrist. "Esposa." He said again. Paige shook her head. That made even less sense than before.

"Can we cut it out with the 'esposas' now?" Clinton asked, rubbing his temple, "Esposa this and esposa that. It doesn't make any sense, so let's move on."

"Esposa also means, cuff," said Paige, "like handcuff. It's a joke, almost. Esposa means wife and also, literally, restraint. Drunk uncles tell it at weddings. It's dumb, and that makes even less sense than before. No hand cuffs or chains in any of the deaths or the museum. Despite what Hollywood tells you, steel and iron for chains and restraints was heavy and expensive, especially back then. It is completely unrealistic that _real _hand cuffs had anything to do with the deaths."

"Wife _and_ handcuff?" said Clinton, smiling to himself, "Talk about this love that binds."

Paige's hand holding her head dropped as she looked at Clinton, as if for the first time.

"Clinton, you are a fucking genius."

* * *

Clinton froze as he saw the light on in the ranch house museum as the three pulled up in Paige's truck. He looked at Paige, armed and packing, then at Tim who looked uncomfortable in his new shoes, but determined.

"What the…?"

"Trust us, Clinton." Said Paige and she walked to the front door of the house. There were no traps. There were no locks. When Paige moved the handle, it gave way with ease. Tatiana was sitting on the wooden bench in the main hall, staring up at the quilt on the wall.

"Miss J?" asked Clinton, "Miss J? Are you alright? It's three in the morning. What are you doing here?"

The old woman just shook her head and smiled, her eyes shining with tears. She looked at Tim and then she saw Paige with her gun and nodded.

"It's time." She said, "It's time."

"Time for what? Miss J, I've had a really shitty, freaky fucked up night so I want some honesty here." Said Clinton, he clasped his hands over Tatiana's "Please, Miss J. Just tell me what's going on." But, despite his pleas, Tatiana just shook her head, smiling sweetly and apologetically at him.

"Lily," said Paige and Tatiana looked up at her. She nodded once.

"Miss J?" asked Clinton, but he seemed to understand as he stood and took a step away from Tatiana. It wasn't the old woman anymore. It had been Lily, the ghost of the runaway slave for a long time.

"I'm sorry, Clinton, dear. Tatiana James died four weeks ago, peacefully in her sleep. I need you to burn my quilt, child," said Lily as she looked up at Paige. "It binds us here to this earth. Bill and I… we need to go. We need to leave this place."

"Bill. It's been Bill who has been killing these people?" Paige asked. Lily nodded.

"It isn't his fault." She said, and she with the thin tone of her voice, she seemed to be pleading with them to understand. "He isn't of his right mind, anymore. He's getting up in years, that one is." She gave a heartbroken laugh and had to wipe her misty eyes again.

"When ghosts get older," Paige supplied to Clinton "They can get more powerful," Paige looked to Lily who gave a small bow with her head," Or they can get vengeful. Your brother killed Bill, didn't he? He killed both of you. Bill stayed for revenge. You stayed for him."

"My brother, Jack, he thought he was doing good. He did. He said that we were crazy for loving each other like we did. Maybe we were. No where we went was safe from it. We couldn't get married. We couldn't be _together_ in public. Canada was free, but that doesn't mean equal. Maybe we always were doomed to this." Lily shrugged, defeated, "He tried to take me. Tried to run away, he thought if he could pull me from Bill's arms he could knock some sense into me. Bill didn't like that. Bill didn't like that one bit and so first I died. Jack wept as he killed me, but he said the way I loved Bill was a sin. They always said stuff like that back then.

"As long as I didn't have that baby, I could still go to heaven. I could still be saved. If only he knew." She gave another laugh, harshly, "I knew Bill needed me like I needed him so I grabbed the first thing I saw that kept me here. Jack killed Bill next, though Bill was half dead already. When he died, he clung to me. When you burn the quilt, nothing holds me here anymore. When I'm gone, nothing is holding Bill here anymore. Even in death, our souls are bound together, in this place but… it's time to move on. We can't stay here anymore."

"Why did Bill kill Dominic? Why did Bill kill Victor?" asked Paige.

"He gets confused," said Lily, shaking her head, "He gets confused about who people are. He saw Dominic. He saw a young man who was going to leave and all he saw was Jack, trying to take me away. As for Victor… that was my fault. I was able to enter Tatiana. I simply slipped into her body as her soul left, I thought it would be so easy for Bill. I didn't realize how much stronger my soul was than his until Victor's soul, Victor's body, rejected Bill. They had seemed so similar. Both so dedicated to freedom and potential. We hurt people. We hurt ourselves and we need to move on."

Paige nodded and clapped her hand on Lily's shoulder. She nodded to Clinton, the tallest of the four, to help her take the blanket off the wall.

"I wish it wasn't so precious," Paige said, wistfully.

"Sometimes, it is the most precious things that we need to let go of to move on."

"Don't Lily." Said Tim, suddenly. Paige saw that same vacant face. The same expression that he wore when her mother was talking through him.

Suddenly, Tim's general dottiness made perfect sense. He was extra sensitive to ghosts shoving into his head and his body. Paige realized that they had taken over his life. Tim was just a walking phone line, open to whatever soul happened to be wandering through. At any given moment he could be crammed full of someone else's memories and thoughts and feelings. No wonder he sometimes forgot his shoes.

"Bill, it's time."

"No, no, look, I have a body now. I have this. Don't leave me, Lily. You can't leave me."

"That's not a body, that's a psychic, Bill. The next big tough soul that comes along is going to bully you right out of it. Leave the poor man alone, my love."

Tim was just shaking his head like a frustrated toddler that couldn't remember or couldn't think of words to describe their argument. Tim started turning purple in the lips when he slammed a fist into the wall. Tim's hand came back, dripping with blood and sawdust. Lily's eyes widened at Paige and Clinton before she took a step towards him.

"Billy. Billy goat, my love, my only, look what you're doing. Look how you hurt yourself." She spoke softly, as if to a child. She held his bloody hand in hers and kissed it. Tim relaxed under her grip.

"They're gonna take you. They're gonna take you away."

"No, no, we're going together. We're going to be free together, don't you see?"

But Bill didn't hear her or didn't believe her because Tim laid his eyes on Clinton and scowled.

"Don't you take her away." He yelled, "Don't you take away my Lily!"

He charged towards them and Paige threw the matches and lighter fluid to Clinton as she stepped forward to intercept Tim.

"Burn it, Clinton, burn it!" she ordered as she threw out her arm to halt Tim in his tracks. He ignored her and slapped her arm aside. Paige had been afraid of that.

She leapt up onto his back and locked her arm around his neck, pulling him to the ground as best she could, but Tim was not light and Bill's unwavering determination was considerable strength on its own. He spun around long enough to aim a punch at Paige's face before turning back to Clinton who was struggling with the lighter.

"Bill." Ordered Lily, "Bill, stop it, now."

But Bill ignored her and went back for Clinton when Paige grabbed an old fire poker and hit him against the shoulder. Bill looked between Paige and Clinton for a moment, then he seemed to decide that Paige was the more annoying of the two. He grabbed her arm as it was in midair to strike and he thrust her across the room. The framed pictures on the wall fell off, raining Paige in broken glass but she stumbled up in time to see a flash of fire at the blanket burned.

Everyone froze and watched it for a minute before Tatiana fell, unconscious, to the floor. However, standing with Tatiana at her feet, was Lily, tall and beautiful in her white dress.

"Don't leave me," pleaded Tim pleaded, "Don't leave me here alone."

"We'll be together," she said, her voice was distant and echoing, like a bell, "Come with me, Bill. Come be free with me."

And, unlike all the other ghosts that Paige had burned before, Lily smiled as the sparks and smoke blew around her feet, vanishing with loving words on her lips. The three stood in silence for a minute.

"Tim, man, that you in there?" asked Clinton, hesitantly, stepping over the charcoaled blanket towards him. Tim blinked slowly, but turned his attention back on Clinton. His eyes were hard with fury.

"YOU TOOK HER AWAY!" he roared as he ran towards him. He grabbed Clinton's coat and shook him. Paige hit Tim from behind the head with the iron poker.

"What the fuck?!" asked Clinton as Tim fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, "I thought he would leave when Lily did."

"He must be clinging to Tim. He must be holding on to Tim's psychic connection to extract his vengeance." She said panting. Tim started to move again, grumbling something about, "Her" and "Gone."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," said Paige, "Run Clinton, just run." She turned back to Tim who stumbled a little after he fell, dizzy, but still Bill. "Tim, you gotta help me out here. You gotta get this son of a bitch out of you."

Tim lifted up the iron poker from where Paige had dropped it on the floor and swung it at her. She ducked and ran in the opposite direction than Clinton had. After a few seconds, she realized that Tim wasn't behind her.

"Yooohoo. Bill?" She called, suddenly afraid that he hadn't fallen for it and gone after Clinton. "Bill! Looking for someone?" she called again into the silence.

Her stomach dropped as she didn't hear anything.

She suddenly felt a hard, stripe of pain across her back as the iron poker made contact. She saw stars as she fell forward onto her hands and knees. Tim landed a heavy kick to her stomach and Paige fell flat on the ground.

Then she heard a small sound of pain.

As Paige turned behind her, she saw a huge iron rod sticking out of Tim's stomach, the other end was held in his own hands. He looked at her warmly for a minute and then smiled. "_mija_," he said before he blinked and fell backwards.

"Mama?" cried Paige as she ran towards Tim, bleeding and on the floor, "Mama?"

But the eyes that looked up at her were confused. Tim blinked once and then felt the rod in his gut, the blood pooling against his shirt.

"Oh, Tim," said Paige, running her hand across his forehead and feeling heat build behind her eyes as she realized that there wasn't anything she could do. Tim seemed to decide this as well and he broke into his shiny cheeked grin again, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"The trees," he said softly, "The trees tell me that there is nothing to fear." He nodded seriously, "You can always trust the trees."

And then Tim fell still and silent against the floor.

* * *

Paige walked out of the coroner's office with a Ziploc bag of ashes under her arm. She felt hot in her new black dress and her new shoes pinched as she hurried across the street to the cemetery.

Clinton, in his black button down shirt looked over his shoulder at her as he stood with the group of people, the whole town, if Paige had to guess, paying their last respects to the dearly deceased Tatiana James. He gave her a strained smile which she returned as she stood, tucked in the back under a tree, trying to make herself scarce.

After her coffin was lowered into the ground, the mourners began to flake off to the wake. Clinton said something to an older couple, probably his parents, before he walked over to Paige and her bag.

"That's it, huh?" he asked.

Paige looked down at Tim in her arms and nodded. The police department had dedicated about four minutes into researching "John Doe 2625" the late accused murderer of Tatiana James and general vandalizer of African American heritage. The headlines called him a mentally deranged white supremacist. No one except a drifter and a high school drop-out seemed to care about his remains.

Paige nodded and the two started walking through the cemetery until they found an older and neglected looking area. Clinton stopped under a particularly warped and tall willow tree and wordlessly patted its trunk. Paige gave a sad smile and nodded. She turned the bag upside down and let the afternoon breeze claim the ashes, swirling them up into the leaves and boughs.

Tim always did trust the trees.

They stood for a minute in silence and Paige couldn't help but feel that it wasn't enough. Tim had been a person. Somewhere in there was _Tim_. Not whatever spirit happened to be in the neighborhood. Paige wished she knew him.

Clinton reached into his pocket, pulling out a small knife. He looked at Paige for a moment, as if to see if he really should. She just nodded and Clinton scratched "_T I M" _into the tree's trunk. It looked vulgar and it looked right.

"You want a ride to the next town or something?" Paige asked Clinton as the two walked back towards the funeral procession. "I could take you to Cleveland. Give you some cash if you finally want to get out of here."

Clinton shrugged.

"I think I'll hang around. Get my diploma or something. This town's not so bad." They reached the few cars peeling away from the cemetery. Only one mourner remained, looking at the headstone.

Paige stopped at the sidewalk and gave Clinton a pat on the back as they hugged. As he drove away, he flashed her a peace sign. She returned it, smiling.

Paige walked up to the last mourner, putting her hand on his shoulder. Gabriel may have been wearing a suit and a somber expression but he was still Gabriel.

Paige looped her arm around his waist and he wrapped one around her shoulder and Paige felt dual splashes of comfort. One from the heavenly power wafting of Gabriel in waves and the other from seeing her best friend, her only friend.

They turned and started walking to nowhere in particular. He looked older, Paige thought. He looked old and tired like John had looked toward the end. Like he was fighting against something so big he didn't really believe he'd ever beat it.

She pressed on his side, a little thinner than she remembered, to get his attention. At least the eyes still shimmered with that powerful, terrifying and infuriating thing that was Gabriel as he looked down at her.

"Gabriel, where do ghosts go when they die?" Gabriel smiled and shook his head, as though it was a question he had heard a million times.

"No clue, gummy bear." He said, "But they go somewhere. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed. Souls don't just disappear. They can be recycled. They can be moved to heaven. They can be warped into demons. They don't just disappear. Nothing just disappears."

"Gabriel?" she asked again. He made a patient 'mmmm?' sound that Paige felt against her arm more than she heard. "Where do angels go when they die?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." He said. "I don't have a soul. I have a grace. Same logic though. It is essentially… me. I can inhabit a vessel. I can leave Earth, I can visit other planes of reality but I remain myself. My memories. My thoughts. My feelings."

"So a grace is like a soul, just more powerful?"

Gabriel laughed darkly at that.

"I must seem so powerful to you." He said, "I am powerful. But a human soul is… well, minus the bodies, minus the age, minus the realm if you put a pure soul up against a pure grace? Well, that'd be a damn close fight. Don't tell anyone, but my money is on the human soul."

"Gabriel?" asked Paige a final time. He gave a great sigh like he used to when she would pester him with questions. Yet he turned to her kindly and his fingers mindlessly toyed with the collar of her coat.

"Are you alright?" she asked him. The eyes he turned to her were glassy and he quickly looked at some distant point over her head. He shook his head 'no.'

"I'm so tired." He said, smiling almost ruefully. "I'm so tired of running and fighting. I fight demons. I fight angels. I come home and Jakab is… very unhappy. It is getting to be winter in Sweden and it gets dark too early and the sun rises too late and he is getting to be an age where he doesn't like not having control. But, hey, cookie crumbles."

They came close to the tree where Clinton had carved Tim's name into the trunk. Gabriel skimmed a finger over the etch.

"Did Tim even have a chance in hell of being happy? Of being normal?" Asked Paige.

Gabriel shook his head, 'no.' "Probably not." He said, "Tim had his… gift… thrust upon him when he was a very small child. Child psychics are always a little off. They're extra sensitive to it, and they never get strong enough to fight out the other souls and voices who want to be heard. Tim lived a very long life, considering."

"That's not fair."

"What about life ever made you think it would be fair, gummy bear?" Gabriel asked and as he heard Paige sniff next to him he pulled her face into his chest and kissed her head. He released her and smiled knowingly. "I thought you didn't care anyways."

Paige returned his smile wetly. She had thought she didn't care either. But she thought of Clinton and Lily and Tim and hell, even Bill, clinging so hard to something that was precious that he imprisoned himself in it. What had been love became a shackle, making him hateful.

Paige cared. Paige fucking cared. It was a revelation. Even without Jo, Paige _wanted _to fight this fight. She had a stake in the war again, but this time it was hers. Not a memory.

* * *

"Hey… Paige. It's Bobby. In case you haven't checked any of the first thousand voicemails I left you. If that is the case, don't listen to that last one I sent… I was drunk and I was mad and I don't remember what I said but I probably didn't mean it.

You know what? Maybe I did. I _am _mad Paige. You're actin' like you're all alone in this. Paige against the Winchesters or Paige against the world. You're bein' a child and it's goddamn crunch time. Literally on the 'goddamn' part. I got two less women in my life Paige. Don't make it three. The only thing worse than losin' someone you love is knowin' someone you care about is out there, hidin' from you. I don't deserve that Paige. I may be an old and bitter drunk, but I know I didn't do nothin' to deserve that.

And you know you can come back, right? Even if I'm mad. Even if I think you're playin' with fire with that dick of an angel, you can always come back here. Family can always come back, no matter how mad they get at each other. So, I'm not gonna ask you to call, 'cause I know you won't, but I am gonna ask you to remember I'm here. I'm always here Paige, no matter how much I yell."


	43. Chapter 43: Elsinore

**Hey kids! This is a really long author's not, so if you have a time crunch or you find the details of my life and thoughts utterly dull, go ahead and skip this.**

**Yes, I am still alive, I'm just a terrible person for neglecting you like I have. So, I don't want to get all sob story on you, because nothing in my life is really that tragic, but I've had a minor mid-life crisis (is it a mid-life crisis if I'm only 22?)Basically I graduated college but have absolutely no plan in life and a lot of debt and I freaked out and ate a lot and spent a lot of time wallowing in my lack of direction. It isn't an excuse. At least it isn't a good one. **

**And I know how it sounds when I say that I'm "really into my fan fiction" but all that I've ever wanted to be when I grow up is a writer. And I can see, just from reading this story, how much my writing has improved from the first few chapters. So, I want to say thank your for those who have supported me, because, honestly, it means a lot. Really, truly. Also, I want to say learn from my example and just fricken write if you want to! It may be terrible and dull and trite at the beginning but once you get into it, just, wow, it gets good. And you get good. I'm not saying that I'm amazing or anything. I've still got a long way to go, but communities like this, where I can write and improve and get feedback is amazing. Thanks so much for everyone who puts up with me as I stumble to find my writing voice. Finally, I'm letting you all know that I'm starting the ambitious project of editing my earlier chapters and reposting them. I've already edited the sex scene in "Gone with the Ghost" (chapter 5) and "Gods and Angels II" (Chapter 11? Maybe?) Sex scene writing has improved the most, I think. Yay, me?**

**The only major editing I'm doing is cutting the part about 'Lang' or Paige's pseudo mentor from the beginning. Did you forget about him? That's fine. I sort of did too. Anyways, from now on, after Paige's son died, she learned about hunting from the internet and books. That kind of explains why she was a little more book smart than street smart when John met her. **

**Anyways, Zapata's back! Read and review. It makes you sexier. Speaking of sexy...**

**P.S. Jeffrey Dean Morgan proposed to girlfriend Hilarie Burton recently! Congrats to them! Yeesh, an older man and a sexy blonde... I really want to be a part of their love making. Yeah. I went there. I'm waiting for an invitation to their threesome. They send out formal invitations for those kinds of things, right?**

* * *

David Zapata stretched his aching libs from the cheap and unforgiving wooden motel chair. The thing was apparently not suited to adult humans as the back of the chair bit harshly into his spine while the seat caressed him in an uncomfortably intimate way.

He let out a moan of relief as his back cricked and then he stood, hunched over and groaning like an old man, but being up for twenty-eight hours would do that to a person. Pouring himself another cup of lukewarm and bitter coffee, he cast his gaze around the motel room. All of his information on this hunt coated the walls like chaotic wallpaper. But nothing doing, he was still stumped on this one.

Deciding that the assault on his taste buds wasn't a reasonable price to pay for a few extra hours of being awake, he dumped the coffee into the sink. Casting a glance at his cellphone, he noted that it was just breaching on four in the morning. He could sleep for five luxurious hours and hit the books again around ten. He only had forty-eight hours until the deaths started happening again, just as they had at the exact same time every year since 1999.

Five hours of sleep meant five fewer hours over the books. Five fewer hours figuring out what the hell was happening to these people in this place. Five fewer hours of saving people.

Fuuuuuuuck.

A quick pit stop to the vending machine in the parking lot would give him soda, which would hopefully keep him awake until the diner opened. Then he could have a constant stream of coffee, wi-fi and some blessed release from the four walls of his room. He could sleep when he was dead. Probably.

He swallowed the cool fresh air as he left his room like it was precious and pulled his worn canvas coat closer around his body. Winter again meant Christmas. Christmas meant getting drunk with Rufus in Montana, burnt turkey, mashed potatoes from a box and a bottle of scotch around a warm fire as he and the old man talked about everything under the sun besides love, family, life and loss. It was amazing how much people could talk about without saying anything at all.

It was amazing how much the past four Christmases of drinking and small talk could mean to him.

He was walking across the lot to the machine when he caught sight of an explicitly familiar truck pulling into the lot. The driver was still in shadow, but last Zapata remembered, Rufus didn't have a swell of breasts or such slender arms.

As the truck parked and the driver collected their things inside the cab, Zapata crept forward as close as he dared, keeping himself hidden in the darkness cast by the overhang of the roof.

He had heard, of course, but a part of him couldn't believe it until he saw her with his own eyes. The funny thing about being a hunter was that you could believe just about anything. Anything except something that you truly wanted. If it made you happy; it was impossible. Ghosts, demons, angels and everything in between that was bloody and dark were as true as the sun.

She was wearing a hat and a thick coat as she stepped out of the car, slinging a bag over her shoulder. She locked the truck before freezing, turning her attention around the parking lot. She felt Zapata watching her. She continued looking cautiously around her, her eyes pausing on the clump of shadows that Zapata had taken refuge in. She squinted into them, unable to make out his shape.

"Who's there?" she asked as her hand went towards the waist of her pants, where a gun was undoubtedly stowed. No open carry allowed in California. She'd draw her weapon when she knew it was a real threat.

Zapata raised his hands and stepped out of the darkness, into the yellow light of the street lamp.

"Sorry, I was trying to think of a clever opening line." He said, offering a weak smile.

Paige stopped reaching for her gun but stayed rigid and out of his reach. They had a complicated relationship, but her coldness was a bit unexpected. They usually hugged, sometimes gave quick pecks on the lips, depending on the circumstance. Zapata had (apparently, wrongly) assumed that coming back from the dead would warrant a pat on the back at least.

"Hey," she said lamely, "Haunted house?" she asked without preamble. She was all business and that was the most surprising thing of all because never, not once since he met her, had he and Paige been all business.

"Yeah."

"I'll move on out then," she said with a shrug.

"Well, wait a minute. I'm stumped on this one. We've worked together before." Paige still looked indecisive and Zapata struggled between insult and apprehension. Dean had told him that Paige was different. He had assumed angry and terrifying. Even weepy would be preferable to the detached but familiar hunter in front of him. Paige checked her watch.

"Forty seven hours." She said levelly.

"Forty seven hours."

"I'll go get a room." She said, turning toward the office.

Zapata swallowed whatever it was that rose up in his throat, hating himself for the fleeting notion that swept through him. He and Paige had shared a room before. He and Paige had shared a bed before but that was back before she died. Before she died in battle with her _girlfriend_.

Zapata had retired to his room when he heard Paige knock at his door. She was armed with coffee and energy drinks and Zapata let her in gratefully.

He dropped down onto the bed as she did a cursory lap around his well-lived room. He was a stressed and sleep deprived slob. So sue him. She looked at his notes and maps and article clippings.

"Every year, a group of three to five people go missing after sneaking into an urban legend esque haunted house. Only one survivor ever made it out and he killed himself last year."

Zapata listened patiently as she repeated the basics of the case. He yawned as he fingered the aluminum tab to the Monster he had helped himself to.

"Yeah," he said, "Hunter Owens, eighteen. He was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. People, doctors, determined that he suffered from hallucinations. Couldn't tell real life from horror movies." Zapata dug through a file and pulled out a newspaper clipping. It was published in a poorly respected tabloid that also wrote on Big Foot and alien abductions, but that was all that there was. He handed it to Paige.

She read it and gave a small smirk. Zapata felt himself smile as well, more in response to Paige's than to the subject matter of the hunt. That had stopped being funny about twenty hours ago.

"These are all horror movie devices," she said, looking up at him. Zapata gave a small laugh.

"Yup. Let's see, the black guy dies first after the group splits up. Then the others were picked off one by one. You've got all of your character archetypes; the alpha male type, the girl who tends to… you know, get around. The nerdy type. They all line up, too. For the other murders they all lump together. Each group that went into that house had people that generally fell into those categories. Hunter Owens was the only account we have." Zapata said as he tried and failed to stifle a yawn.

"How long have you been awake, Zapata?" she asked him, looking him over analytically.

"Twenty nine, oh, wait, thirty hours."

"Go to sleep, Zapata." Said Paige, gently and Zapata recognized the soft tone. He obediently laid back on the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes to block out the room's lights. He heard her sitting in his chair and moving his papers, trying to get caught up on the case.

It wasn't the Paige he remembered. The woman he thought he could fall in love with was somewhere else, but she wasn't dead. She was hiding in some dark place and putting herself back together and Zapata took comfort in that.

So Zapata settled for the lullaby of another person, a woman, bustling around as he slept. Undemanding presence in his little motel room which was empty more often than not. It wasn't the same as having a sultry young number curled in his arms and smelling of sex and sweat. If anything, this gentle domestic feeling of not being alone was more intimate.

They were sharing more than a bed. In Zapata's world, somehow the bed became an island. There was an express route from the bar to the bed (a career as a cop had cooled Zapata to the idea of car sex.) They would fuck and kiss and sometimes the girls wanted to spoon and be held and Zapata wasn't about to deny them that. But they didn't know him. They didn't see him as he was. He was a charming outsider who was whatever she wanted him to be. A fed agent off duty. A mysterious drifter. A dangerous stranger. Hell, he'd even put on his clichéd spicy latino fling for a particularly raunchy divorcee. But that was it for them. He was whatever they needed then he left and they got back to their lives with a dirty little memory or secret to look back on.

But he went to the next town and played whatever role the next woman wanted for him. If he could talk to himself five years ago, his younger self would roll his eyes and tell him to suck it up because, you know, _sex! _But that was before it was every time. That was before he had to adopt a character every time he had someone in his arms, the place where he should be the most raw. He was tired of it. So, it was a comfort to have Paige, even if it was the dark sad Paige instead of the soft sweet one he preferred, moving around him, not asking him to be anything he wasn't. Not asking him to be her knight in shining armor or her scandalous affair with the pool boy or gardener or whatever the hell it was that middle aged white women fantasized about when they looked at Enrique Inglesias. Paige was just there.

The sounds of Paige awake and moving was a cooling balm on a thousand nights of crushing silence and wide eyed women seeing everything they wanted in him, but none of what he really was.

* * *

Zapata blinked awake and rolled onto his side as he opened his eyes. The sun was out but the shades were drawn casting the room in a weird perpetual twilight. He blinked as he saw Paige's figure, unaware of his new conscious state, chewing on a pen cap and scrunching her brow. She was flagging, he could tell. He decided that he had startled her enough for one hunt and rolled over in the bed and making a dramatically sleepy moan.

"Hey, Paige."

"Good morning. Or rather, afternoon." She said and he quickly looked over to his bedside clock. He had over slept. Shit. He ran a hand down his face and scratched his beard, a reminder that he hadn't shaved in two days.

"Anything new?" he asked without much hope. He didn't like to brag, but he was a damn good hunter and if he couldn't find something there was a very good chance that it wasn't there to be found. Paige gave him a sad shrug and shake of her head before standing and pouring the last of the coffee into a mug.

"Cream? Sugar?" she asked and it took Zapata a moment to realize what she was asking. The most mundane of questions took him by surprise in this line of work.

"Cream, no sugar." He said and Paige nodded, stirring the coffee and bringing it to him. She tucked a strand of her short hair behind her ear and settled herself on the foot of his bed as she handed him the mug. When it was long, she always wore her hair back, but now that it was too short for her to pull into a ponytail, she had adopted a nervous habit of tucking, pushing, sliding her fingers through her hair. It was new but it was somehow, also, a very Paige thing to do.

"Are you OK?" he rolled over to look right at her and his heart tightened to see her put her cold mask on again.

"I'm walking and talking aren't I?" she asked. Her face softened as she looked at him, "I can't talk about—it. Yet. Maybe ever. I just… I just wanted to do a hunt. It's easier if I can do something."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I roped you into this. You… you don't have to stay if you want to do a hunt alone."

Paige licked her lips and ran a hand through her short hair again.

"Don't apologize. _I'm _sorry. I didn't want to run into you while I was still like this." She turned back to the table and started flipping through the notebook pages, but her eyes didn't move along the lines. "I'm so wrong right now. I wanted to see you when I was me again."

"You… you wanted to see me?"

"Of course I wanted to see you. You're my friend. I don't have many—any- left."

"That's not true." Said Zapata quickly and Paige gave a disbelieving snort, "Dean called me. Asked if I had seen you. They're worried. They're all worried."

"Ah, yes, I'm sure Dean is very 'worried.'"

"I was worried." He said and he stood, walking over to where she sat at his table and pulled her into a stiff hug. Paige stayed rigid for another second before she closed her eyes against his stomach, where her head landed as she sat and Zapata stood, and Zapata felt something that he shouldn't be feeling ever while comforting a friend in mourning. As casually as he could he loosened his grip on her and she pulled away.

"How long have you been driving and stuff?" Zapata asked her. "How long have _you_ been awake?"

"A very long time," she said simply.

"Shift change. You catch some sleep and I'll see what needs to be done."

"Zapata, I'm pretty sure that we both know what needs to be done." She said warily, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Fuck, you're probably right." He groaned. "I hate going in there half cocked."

"Sometimes you just have to." Said Paige, though she sounded as reluctant as Zapata had. "I'll go sleep for a few hours. Recon here in a little bit?"

"You can just sleep here." Zapata offered, "I'll research. Maybe run out and get some breakfast- scratch that—lunch and we can just, you know, hang together."

"I don't think that's the best idea, David."

"Whoa, hey, what, you think I'll try something? I'm not a monster."

"I know you aren't a monster," said Paige, as she started collecting her notes, "I just don't think it's a good idea."

Zapata opened his mouth to say something more when Paige stood abruptly, holding her notes and deliberately not looking at him. And then she was out the door faster than Zapata had ever seen any woman run without actually running in his life.

* * *

"Well, this makes things more complicated," said Paige as the two pulled up to the site. They had to look for parking in front of the old deserted house. The place was crawling with people camped out in front of the lawn with signs and tents. A few police officers were standing outside the house, preventing people (teenagers, mostly) from going inside.

They had two hours until the deaths started happening so they went to stock salt and ammo in the house as they went to confront whatever it was that was causing the deaths. The house had no history of violence; in fact the last occupant had been an elderly woman who died peacefully in her sleep in front of the television. They had not expected a crushing crowd of witnesses who might cause a bit of a problem when it came to sneaking their arsenal in.

"It's like fricken Woodstock for ghost freaks." Grumbled Zapata.

"Ghost freaks?"

"You've never seen them before? Once someone so much as breathes the word 'ghost' or 'spirit' you get a hundred of these types crawling all over your job. With their little night vision cameras and their Ouija boards. Fucking lunatics."

"You do realize that _we're_ ghost freaks, right?" asked Paige and Zapata whipped his head around to look at her. Paige was grinning in amusement so Zapata joined her.

"Hey, what you and your Ouija board do at night is none of my business." He joked, parking the car and climbing out, throwing his bag over his shoulder. "I happen to be a professional."

"There are some kids over there with a van and camera equipment. They look pretty legit."

"What is a 'ghost facer?'" Zapata asked as he squinted to read the van.

"A professional." Said Paige over her shoulder, smiling before joining the throng of ghost freaks and heading up to the house. Zapata laughed quietly to himself and followed her.

* * *

There was a twenty foot perimeter around the house marked off by police tape and a couple of frazzled looking officers by the doors. Paige and Zapata did a quick loop around the house before Paige tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to a broken window in the basement. It would be a tight fit, but they could probably manage. Paige slipped under the tape and unlocked the window through the broken pane. She managed to slip her and Zapata's bags into the house before getting ready to shimmy in herself when—

"Hey! Hey, this area is restricted. You can't be back here." One of the men guarding the front door turned the corner and barked at them in a bored way. Like he had done it many times before. He took Paige gently by the elbow and guided her back to Zapata on the other side of the yellow line.

"Aren't you two a little old to be doing this sort of thing?" he asked with a sigh as he looked between them. His eyes lingering on Zapata who had about five years on Paige. Zapata shrugged and looped his arm around Paige's waist. Thankfully Paige went with it, pressing herself into his side and biting her finger coyly.

"We really like, you know, haunted houses and stuff." He cast a meaningful look down at Paige and then raised his eyebrows at the officer again, "We _really _enjoy them."

"Gosh, it's so spooky just being here," Paige said in a breathy voice a pitch or two higher than normal. She widened her eyes innocently and wrapped her arms tighter around Zapata.

"Whatever. Just 'enjoy' this particular house in private, alright? And on _that _side of the tape."

"Is everything alright, Rick?" asked a harsh voice behind them. Paige and Zapata spun around to find the most bizarre woman that Zapata had ever seen. She was a series of contradictions. She was fifty at least, with thin severe lips and a pair of big green eyes that meant business and matched her hard tone. But the long dishwater curls that cascaded down her back and the flowing Mother-Earth type of dress she wore detracted from that a little bit.

"Evelyn." Said the cop levelly, looking her over. "Everything's fine, they were just leaving."

"Good." She said, and nodded for Paige and Zapata to follow her away from the house towards one of the several barbeque and tents set up around the house. "I'm Evelyn Harper. I'm the DA for the city and if that cop gives you any more trouble, you let me know."

"DA, huh?" asked Zapata hesitantly and Paige pinched his side where her arm was still locked. She shot him a look telling him to keep his cool and then focused on Evelyn.

"Thanks for that. We just really love these kinds of places." She gave a girlish shiver and Zapata was momentarily struck by the desire to laugh at her, actually quite convincing, pretty-dumb-girl-act.

"Well, we aren't 'thrill seekers' like some." Said Evelyn, giving Paige a judgmental sort of once over, " There is a powerful spirit that resides here and he calls to me. He calls to a lot of us, every year at this time."

"Are you a psychic?" asked Zapata. Evelyn wrinkled her nose.

"We prefer the term empath or clairvoyant." She said, with a dreamy gaze, "I personally am an empath. And we just come here and feel the spirit and absorb its power."

"People die, though, right?" asked Zapata, looking distastefully at the tents and barbeques, more like a tailgate party than a spiritual sacrifice. "Every year, people die."

"Yes, and it is so tragic," said Evelyn, "But we can't really stop it. The house chooses people. And those people are drawn into it."

"What do you mean it 'chooses'?"

"Well, obviously people try and break into the house every night that this happens. Kids mostly, but those that the house doesn't want never make it past the front door. Those that it does choose always find a way in. Most of the thrill seekers," Evelyn cast a dark look at Paige, "never even make it into the foyer."

"Well, thanks so much for your help back there." Said Paige in that stupidly bright voice again.

"Blessed be," said Evelyn, but her tone implied that she would be glad to see the back of them. Zapata couldn't really disagree with that sentiment as he let Paige push him away from the group of wiccans.

"Would you, maybe, not yell at witnesses and potential sources?"

"Ugh," said Zapata with a gross shiver as if dislodging something crawly from his back, "DA. She was a DA. I hate DAs."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot you were a cop." Said Paige with a light laugh. "Well, you don't have to be cross examined by her in court, so put the hackles down."

"She hates you."

"Yes well, she hates who she thinks I am and that happens to be a bimboish slut. For some reason it is the easiest character for me to adopt. Ugh, trust me, I hate that idiot girl too." Said Paige, "Obviously she was not a true empath, then." Paige added with an eye roll. After a moment, she paused and looked at Zapata. "How much time to we have?"

"Less than a half hour."

"So, worst case scenario is that someone creates a distraction while the other sneaks in." said Paige, sounding less than pleased with the plan.

"I'll go in. You create a scene."

"Are you high? I'm going in. You create the scene."

"Rock-Paper-Scissors?"

"Are we eleven?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off before you told me your better idea."

"Fine." Said Paige and they stopped about ten yards away from the house. Then there was an awkward moment where Zapata realized that Paige was still wrapped around his body, long after their little fetish seeking couple act needed to be played. She dropped her arm quickly and held a fist over an open palm, ready to play the highest stakes game of chance that Zapata had ever seen.

Paige pulled paper, Zapata pulled rock and he was just about to let loose a curse when a few feet away, the police officers laughed riotously together in a group. One of them nudged his coworker in the ribs and pointed to something on a smartphone that they were all gathered around.

At the same time, the front door to the house creaked open, beckoning them inside. Zapata sent another cautious look towards the officers who were momentarily distracted before Paige linked her hand with his and made a run for the open door.

They were up the front steps before one of the teenagers around the yellow ribbon let loose a roar of approval and applause. Zapata had time to send an apologetic look to the officer who started to yell and run forward when Paige gave a massive pull and jerked him into the house with her.

The officer had followed them up the stairs, but just as he was about to cross the threshold, the door slammed itself shut. They heard the doorknob rattle as the policeman, Rick, tried to open it, but the door remained impenetrable.

Paige and Zapata looked at each other.

The house chooses those who enter. The house had chosen them.

* * *

**Did you think I would just leave you alone after that epic novel of an a/n at the beginning? Haha, nope! I'm far too needy for that. Review, please!**


	44. Chapter 44: Elsinore II

**Hey, kids.**

**So, excuses, excuses. Go ahead and skip this author's note if you hate me. Can't say I really blame you. I hate me sometimes, too. I might have mentioned it in passing, but my creative process (yes, I'm using that phrase like I'm a real fucking artist. Deal.) is that I'll write a scene completely out of context just to get it out of my head. They're usually major turning points in my story. What happened was that I wrote the scene for the next chapter (or, probably, the chapter after that) and have basically been picking at it for, what, 2 weeks?. I really had to push this chapter out of me because I was stalling big time and needed to get my momentum back. Tomorrow is my day off, so I should be able to shove this next chapter out before we get to the BIG part. **

**Basically, what I'm saying, is that I hope to have the next two chapters in your hands by Monday. Yikes!**

**Thanks for the people who leave me reviews! They really mean the world to me. The holidays have messed up everyone's schedule and shit. I would LOVE for people to tell me if they're still reading. **

* * *

"_Paige? Paige… you awake?"_

"_Mmmmm?"_

_Small nimble fingers walked down Paige's arm and she smiled as she was gently roused from her sleep. She giggled as she realized that the fingers on her naked body were marching along, the tip of an index finger to the tip of a middle finger to the tip of the index finger again, like a small, hand shaped soldier. _

"_Mmmmm" Paige managed again, rolling onto her back and sleepily spreading her legs, clearly expecting those marching fingers to go to work down there. A small foot prodded her, less gently this time, in the calf beneath a series of blankets and Paige made an unhappy sound as she realized that she was being woken up and wasn't even going to get an orgasm out of it._

"_We need to talk, Paige."_

_Only the neediness of the tone pried Paige's eye open. _

"_What's up, Jo? Is everything alright?"_

"_No," said Jo, but she said it with a sad smile, "but it's better, now. It's better, here, with you. I love you so much."_

"_I love you too" Paige murmured, reaching up and cupping the fine featured face in her palms. She tucked a blonde tangle beneath an adorably large ear and then let that finger slide so that the thumb landed against Jo's love swollen lip, "I love you so much it hurts a little. But it hurts so good. I would rather spend everyday hurting a little bit than spend a single night without you, right here. Ass naked."_

"_You're always funny at the wrong time, Paige."_

"_You love that about me."_

"_I'm trying to talk to you." Said Jo, and Paige propped herself up on her elbows as she heard frustration. Jo was being serious and the sheer rarity of that was enough to sober Paige up from her dreamy drunkenness. _

"_I'm listening, Jo. I will always listen to you."_

"_I want to talk about tomorrow."_

"_No, thank you."_

"_Paige!"_

"_What? What is there to say? I might die? You might die? The world is ending, Jo, and I don't want to talk about it."_

"_Fine." Jo said sullenly, and Paige dropped her shoulders. She didn't want to fight. She just wanted to go back to warm kisses and touches and the comfort of a small soft body fitting into hers so well. Jo relaxed into her arms and Paige breathed a sigh of relief as she started kissing Jo's ear and neck._

* * *

Paige and Zapata stood for a few seconds, staring at the door. Paige pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the time.

It had begun.

"We must be the last people it let in," Zapata said, looking at the digits over Paige's shoulder. "I guess we should get started. Find the other people that the house let in, you know?"

"Yeah, and then what? Our bags are in the basement. Our bags with salt and guns and everything else."

"Split up?" asked Zapata, but he sounded wary. That was the beginning of the end, according to Hunter Owens. The group had split up and then spent the rest of the night listening to each other scream their last words.

"Sounds like a bad plan."

"Only one we got."

"True." Said Paige and she scrunched her brow. "I'll get the weapons. I'm the one who shoved them down there anyways."

"I'll get the weapons, you keep an eye out for the kids."

"No, that's stupid, you have better people skills than I do." She said, shaking her head, "I know where the weapons are I looked in the window, know what's around them and stuff. I'll be back before you know it."

"No, I'll go." Said Zapata firmly and Paige fixed him with a glare,

"If this is because I'm a _girl_ I swear I'm gonna hit you in your man business."

"I'm sorry! Ok. I'm sorry that I'm a gentleman—"

"Don't you pull that chauvinistic bullshit on me."

They were close fighting, which both realized wasn't helpful at all, so Zapata held his fist over an open palm expectantly.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope."

"David, this has 'no brainer' written all over it. The longer we draw this out, the more time we waste."

"I agree" said Zapata, but his hand stayed at the ready. With a little grumbling, Paige mirrored his gesture. Zapata threw scissors. Paige threw rock.

"Goddamn it."

"See, even the fates can tell when you're being a stubborn jerk." She said, but Paige was smiling.

"You're cheating, somehow. I just can't prove it yet."

Paige stuck her tongue out over her shoulder as she marched down the stairs and Zapata rolled his eyes as he started to hunt the perimeter of the house. It was everything that could be expected of a house that had been virtually empty for ten years; peeling wallpaper, thick blankets of dust over everything, spray-paint and carvings from kids that had managed to break into the house on the other 364 nights it was available.

The house had been looted too, it appeared. The old woman who had died must have not had any family since many belongings were still inside the house, furniture, books on the shelves. Bright clean square shaped spots against the wall displayed where framed pictures had stood for decades, echoes of the decorations that had once stood.

Zapata heard a low whistle from the basement and turned quickly, jogging, to find Paige, the doubtless source of the noise. She stood at the foot of the basement stairs, the bags of guns slung over her shoulder as she looked expectantly up at him. In her arms was a wooden box with chalk white etchings.

Zapata had only heard stories, only rumors, really, of the rare and powerful boxes that contained spirits, demons and curses for centuries. Paige held one in her hand, looking more irritated than surprised.

The box was open.

* * *

"Look what I found." She said, holding the box out to him.

"Holy shit." He said simply, turning the box in his hand. But the box was different from the ones that Rufus had told him about. Rather than demonic sigils, it was coated in a foreign alphabet he didn't recognize. "Not Hebrew." He assessed. Rufus had taught him to hunt in the Jewish tradition. Zapata knew his Hebrew.

"I'm thinking Cyrillic. Greek Orthodox tradition? But, this wood isn't common for curse boxes. Not here, anyways. Imported, probably."

Zapata peeled his eyes away from the box long enough to throw Paige a bewildered look.

"Curse boxes? Sort of my specialty." she explained with a shrug, like it wasn't a big deal.

"Good. What are we dealing with?"

"No clue." She said, "But the bright side is that whatever came out of that box can go right back in. Assuming we can figure out what it is, learn the binding spell, and, of course, find it."

"Sounds like an ordinary hunt."

"Sounds like."

* * *

The house had locked them in at 7: 32 pm. Zapata checked the time and saw that it was coming on 10 and they were still wandering around the empty house. Silence was rarely comforting at these sorts of times.

"Hey, Paige?" he asked suddenly. His voice sounded loud in the ringing silence, despite the fact that he had almost been whispering. "Are you worried that we haven't found anyone else yet?"

Paige chewed her lip and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Definitely."

"Maybe they're hiding? Maybe the house made an exception this year? Only took two instead of three?"

"Maybe the kids are dead already." It was blunt and cold.

"Glad to have you on the team, Garcia." said Zapata dryly. He always hoped for the best in a hunt, letting the worst-case-scenario sit quietly in the back of his mind until he was sure he needed it. Probably delusional. Maybe a little silly, but it worked for him. But clearly, that wasn't how Paige hunted. Perhaps it wasn't how _this _Paige hunted.

Paige didn't bother to roll her eyes at his remark as she started to move the few surviving books around the shelves, searching for something to indicate what they were dealing with. Zapata started to mentally flip through the facts that he knew about the last owner of the house.

Inga Nosov was a spinster, died at the ripe old age of ninety, quietly in front of her television set. She had emigrated from the Soviet Union in 1933 with her parents. Other than a few minimum wage jobs, she didn't work. Other than a grocer who recognized her as a regular, no one really knew her. Just a quiet, possibly crazy, old woman alone in a house too big for her.

There wasn't any evidence of a vengeful spirit. No enemies, at least not in the States.

"You think this could be the anniversary of the day they box was opened?" asked Zapata, thinking through his theories out loud.

"Would make sense," said Paige, wrinkling her nose as a puff of dust rose from the yellowed pages of the book she was holding. "We won't know until we figure out what it is."

A soft scraping sound spread across the floor and Zapata and Paige fell silent as they listened. Either the creature was very fast or very good at hiding, since the sound of its movements seemed to come from everywhere. The two hunters migrated together, standing back to back, both holding their guns. Their guns that might prove useless against anything that wasn't hurt by salt rounds.

As the thought struck him, he felt Paige's hand press against his. He reflexively opened his palm to her and she passed cold, silver bullets into his fist. He waited until he heard her cock her shotgun, loaded with silver and ready for action before he loaded his. Just in time, as Zapata returned the gun to his fist, he heard heavy footsteps. Paige heard them too, he felt her tense against his back.

Then there was the click of a gun, too far away to be Paige's. A looming shadowed figure crept towards them. A looming, shadowed figure that looked vaguely familiar.

"Alex?" Zapata asked suddenly, peering into the dark.

"Zaps? That you?"

"Fuck, man, I didn't know you were in town. "

"You kidding me? Everyone knows about this hunt. Congrats on getting in, by the way."

Alex grinned a marred smile. It looked more like a baring of teeth than a grin, but the hunter's face was so flawed by scars that he couldn't manage much else. There were thousands of stories as to how he got the scars. The most mundane being that he got them when a car bomb went of as he was serving in Iraq. The most exciting being that he had pulled a child from the jaws of a werewolf, infuriated at his loss of a meal. The most scandalous was that he had been swiped with a broken bottle by a whore when he refused to pay.

That one was Alex's personal favorite. He told it to Zapata, laughing over a double of whiskey, and even his laugh looked like an act of aggression, all teeth and shakes and rumbling growls. He said the slut gave him the worst blow job of his life; said he took a dollar off for every time the bitch accidentally scraped her teeth against him. By the end of it, he joked that _she _owed _him._

Zapata had laughed at the time, because he was drunk and in the company of two other male hunters, but the way that Alex's eyes fell onto Paige made him seriously consider how much of that last rumor was actually a joke.

Alex had it rough. Sure, Zapata hated the fact that women used him. Made him a character in their romantic and dirty fantasies. But he got some. He got looks of interest. He got soft and loving words. He had known since the eighth grade that he was one of the 'good looking' guys.

It was after a swim meet, he was waiting for his sister to pick him up after her job at the Baskin Robbins. His hair was still wet and his skin was dry and scratchy from the chlorine and all he wanted was to see his sister's old Toyota pull into the school lot, but Kelsey Gaines got to him first.

Kelsey was in the eleventh grade and was in the theatre club. She was always the star of every play because she was the only girl in school who had filled out just right and still had a pretty face and a youthful smile.

"Hey, you." She said, by way of greeting. Zapata looked up at her, positive that she was going to tell him that he was somehow in her way. Instead, she squinted and cocked her head. "Are you in my math class?"

"No." he said simply. At the time, he was proud of how terribly cool and flip his answer was. Later, he realized that it was really just that he couldn't think of anything else to say to the Heidi Klum look-a-like that was Kelsey Gaines.

"Yes you are." She asserted. It was impossible. She had to know it. Zapata shrugged and looked away, done being under the microscope of a pretty girl he had no shot in Hell with. And then she said the most beautiful words known to adolescence; "Let me give you a ride home."

And Maricela and his Mother's shrieks of anger at not being where he promised to be didn't even sink in because Kelsey Gaines let him slip his hands up under her shirt. He was grounded for a week but it wasn't so bad since Kelsey Gaines' nipples were as round and firm as he thought they would be. He hadn't even kissed a girl yet, but he had pinched and pressed the most perfect nipples of the most perfect girl in school, probably the world.

They had exchanged about four words, total. And it was all mostly her, talking about people in a grade that she had to know that he wasn't in or classes and teachers he wouldn't get acquainted with for a couple more years. She had let him get to second base because he was one of the 'good looking' guys. Nothing more. Kelsey Gaines was a 'good looking' girl. She only fooled around with 'good looking' guys and Zapata's right of passage happened in her car, behind the Taco Bell while he still smelled like pool and she smelled like the sugary sweet body spray that all the pretty girls kept in their lockers. It wasn't a good combination, but suddenly Zapata was a 'cool guy' and he could do what he wanted.

But Alex had it rough. Undercover gigs were hard when he was so distinctive. Even if people were polite, pretended to not notice, it was hard to win a witness' trust with a face that could only form about four expressions, each a deformed variation of a grimace. As for hooking up… Zapata didn't think he had the best luck. Back at that bar, in that town two years ago, Zapata had the passing thought that a decade of rejection, second glances, pity instead of lust, had made Alex into something of a misogynist. Alex cast his leering attention to Paige. His suspicion was confirmed.

"This your girl?" he asked, raising a brow. "Lana, right?"

"Paige," Paige corrected, looking over Alex warily. She didn't step down from his sneer, but Zapata took a step closer to her and slid his fingers over the small of her back, silently laying claim to her. It was exactly the kind of macho, territory marking thing that Paige would probably pull her college word feminist theory temper on him for, but this time, she allowed it and relaxed into his touch a bit.

Alex shrugged and winked at Zapata. Paige pretended not to see.

"Curse box," she explained, holding it out to the new hunter for him to inspect. He did so, hastily, without as much focus as Paige had given it. He dropped it onto the table beside him.

"I'm thinking that we're working with a poltergeist here. Replaying a script or a scene over and over again. Same deaths. Same personality types. Same time."

"Poltergeists can't be contained by a curse box. And even if they could, look around. A poltergeist would hardly let a human vandal come in and start screwing around or looting."

"What's your theory, then?"

"… I don't know, but I don't think it is a poltergeist."

"What do you think, Zapata?" asked Alex, turning his marred smile to him. Zapata hesitated for a moment, looking between the two hunters.

"I think I agree with Paige on this one. If it wasn't the poltergeist in that box, then what was in it? That is clearly a curse box. Those being open is never a good sign."

"Side with the pussy. Can't say I blame you."

"Excuse me," said Paige with poorly disguised disgust, standing up quickly and turning away from the table. She marched off to the kitchen and started sifting through drawers. Alex watched her go, his eyes caressing her ass in a way that Zapata wasn't ok with, before turning back to him.

"Nice rack. Got good tastes."

"She's hunting with me on this one. Nothing more."

"Yet. Women just want a good looking son-of-a-bitch to save them from the big mean monster. Gnank this mother? I bet she puts out."

"She really isn't like that." Said Zapata. Outside of a bar and without an Old Fashioned in his hand, Alex was much less fun to be around.

"Trust me, they're all like that. I got this theory. Lady hunters? They just get off on it. Hunt because they got this itch that can only be scratched when there's a ghoul watching, you know?"

"Afraid not." Said Zapata, trying to manage his distaste. He chose to change the subject, "So, she and I are packing silver—"

"So you actually believe her?"

"She's good at what she does. Has a lot more expertise in curse boxes than I do."

"Your funeral." Said Alex with a shrug. But Zapata wasn't listening. He was watching Paige grow tense and still, her hand inching to the butt of her gun as she spied something in the corner of the kitchen.

She saw it.

He slowly and silently stood and made his way over to her, reaching for his own gun. Suddenly Paige aimed and pulled the trigger, cutting the silence with the sound of a bullet.

Alex leapt out of his seat and pulled his gun. Following Zapata to where Paige had shot. She turned her glare to Alex, her gun still raised. She pointed to a dark red spot on the wood floor by the oven.

"Poltergeists don't bleed, last I checked."


	45. Chapter 45: Elsinore III

**Here it is! The next chapter! Yaay! **

**Also, I finally found an apartment and signed the lease! Double yay! **

**I had to give a shout out to Misha Collins' Russian heritage in this chap. Misha is a nickname of Dimitri and at least once he has tweeted in Russian. So, therefore, Russian heritage established. **

**Здравствуй, ангел.**

**Onto the hunt!**

* * *

_A small foot wedged itself into the pocket behind her knee again, and Paige knew she wasn't off the hook. Pressure turned to nudges and Paige was having a hard time pretending she was still asleep. She rolled over before Jo could escalate to kicks. She knew (not through experience, thankfully) that those could mess someone up for days. _

_"Paaaaaaige."_

_"Hmmm?"_

_"We need to talk."_

_"I love you, what more is there to say?"_

_"Oh, I don't know. Last words? Final wishes? Plans?"_

_"No. Thank you."_

_"Paige."_

_"Please, Jo. I can't talk about it."_

_"Fine. I'll talk. You listen."_

_"Jo—"_

_"I want you to have my shotguns. Ok? I mean, we share them so often that I'm not even a hundred percent which are yours and which are mine. But I want my Dad's knife to go to my cousin. He's got a sister in Utah and she has a kid and I want it to stay in the family. I wrote her address down in my journal, which I want you to take care of. Most of those notes are as much you as they are me, but I want you to keep it."_

_"Cut it out, Jo."_

_"I want you to take that Stella McCartney dress. The blue one? You looked so beautiful in that."_

_"Stop it." Said Paige, and she meant to be commanding and harsh. It came out heavy and watery with tears. _

_"Do you remember it? We were working in Louisiana, I think? And you put on that dress and you were so beautiful and sexy and perfect. You danced—you never dance—and it was just… I want to think of you wearing that dress and dancing and laughing and living, for once. Living still."_

_"Jo, I mean it.-" _

_"You can do what you want with the others. Donate them. Sell them and give proceeds to some pig rescue or something. My penance for all the bacon I've eaten in my short life."_

_"Jo—"_

_"Paige."_

_"It hurts, Jo. Stop talking about it like you already know what is going to happen. We're dying together or we're not dying at all, got it?"_

_"You aren't that delusional, Paige."_

_"Maybe I want to be tonight." She said, rolling over to face her lover. Jo reached forward and kissed Paige, pretending not to notice the wet tracks along her face. _

_Jo's hands were in her hair and running down her body, loving her. Saying goodbye to her._

_"You aren't delusional. You aren't stupid. You're you, even when it is uncool and painful and shitty, you're Paige." Said Jo, "And I know you've thought about all of this before."_

_"Don't leave me all alone, Jo."_

_"I can't promise that. Nobody can." Said Jo, "But I need you to make me a promise, OK?"_

_Paige looked away. She didn't want to be the keeper of a dead girl's promises. She didn't want to be the one who was left behind. Again. _

_"I don't want to be John, Paige."_

* * *

The hunters watched the pool on the kitchen floor.

They didn't have much time to think it over as the house started to shake, like an earthquake. Zapata looked up to see the overhead kitchen light rocking precariously. He seized Paige's elbow and pulled her against the wall of the kitchen, out of harm's way. The house instantly stilled and Zapata breathed a sigh of relief, but his blood turned cold as he opened his eyes.

He was no longer facing the kitchen, but a very small bedroom. He glanced around the room for a door handle, but couldn't find one. There was no door.

Paige's hand was over her heart and Zapata thought for a moment that she was catching her breath before she moved her hand and saw that the small, penny necklace she wore was glowing. She was summoning someone.

"Gabriel?" he asked her. Dean had told him about that too. All she had was time to nod before a voice broke into the dusty silence of the room.

"No. I am Castiel."

A trench coat and blue eyes, suddenly occupied space that had been only stale air before. Paige jumped. Clearly, she hadn't been expecting him either.

"Where is Gabriel?" she asked, hushed.

"Busy." Said Castiel, but he didn't look at Paige or Zapata, but instead around the small room, taking inventory. "My brother has sent me in his stead. I should be an adequate substitution for him. Why is there no door in this room?"

"I was hoping you could tell us."

"It is very peculiar." Said Castiel, "There is no evil spirit here."

"Um," said Zapata, looking around, "I beg to differ."

Castiel reached out and laid a finger against both of the hunters and Zapata was in free fall while, somehow managing to feel suffocated by the nothingness around him. Zapata couldn't tell if the floor collided with him or him with the floor but suddenly his feet were flat on linoleum, but his knees hadn't gotten the memo as they buckled and swayed. Paige's arm was around his waist in an instant, holding him upright. He leaned against her, her soft frame making a very comforting crutch.

She, however, was watching Castiel as the angel's eyes flitted around the kitchen that they had been thrown from.

"Castiel, what can do this to us?" she asked him, "What can alter reality like this? Lock people in, lock them out. Move them? Kill them?"

"I said it was not evil, not that it was not powerful."

"It's killing people."

"There is more to evil than that." Said the angel simply, still looking around the room instead of at Paige. Paige, however, was giving Castiel an odd look.

"Well, 'killing people' kinda does it for me." He said, once his stomach seemed to decide to stay where it was rather than to leap out of his mouth. Paige looked back over at him and nodded.

"We need to end the killings. Castiel, it came from this curse box, we think."

"That makes much more sense." Said the angel, and suddenly the curse box was in his hand. He ran fingers over the wood.

"Russian, I believe. Fourteenth century. The good news is that we are able to put it back into the box."

"You can read Russian?" Zapata asked.

"Angles are fluent in all languages," the impatient explanation came from Paige, not Castiel and Zapata crinkled his brow at her; surprised and a little unnerved by her expertise in angels and curses. She didn't watch him long enough to truly register his suspicion. "Is there bad news?" she asked Castiel.

"It is mutated. It is damaged and it will not go willingly."

"Can we kill it?" asked Zapata. "If it bleeds, we can kill it, right?"

"It can be killed," Castiel said hesitantly, "Though it is rare and normally harmless… We are dealing with a Domovoi. It is a house spirit. A guardian of a house and family line. Probably inherited and shoved into a curse box, brought to a new land. That should not have happened. Mutation number one."

"This lady, that owned the house, she came here from the Soviet Union in the 1930s."

"Ah, The Great Purge era of the Stalin regime. That fits my theory."

"But the lady is dead. Why is the Domovoi still here then?"

"Mutation number two; they are not supposed to be left alone. Traditionally, houses are passed through generations. They are not creatures accustomed to solitude." Said Castiel," They are benevolent entities, guarding houses from curses and bad fortune. They have been known to keep even angels and demons at bay."

"They spend their whole lives protecting their people and then suddenly there is no one left to protect." Said Paige quietly and that was a dangerous path.

"Paige…" Zapata warned.

"What? It's sad is all." She snapped, "You, of all people, should be able to empathize with protecting people."

"I don't_ kill_ people, Paige. I don't murder. Nothing justifies that. Nothing at all."

Paige looked away instead of rebutting his argument so Zapata counted it as a win.

"Alex," she said with disdain, "We need to find Alex."

"This thing murders in a pattern, right? By personality types? Maybe it isn't following a format, but looking for characters. If you play up your assumed role, it focuses on you."

"Was Alex being extra alpha esque?"

"Wait, what?"

"If this thing is selecting us by character, then it must have chosen Alex as the cocky, alpha male archetype."

"...I'm the alpha..."

"Oh, sweetie, no." she said, looking over him sadly. Zapata got the hint and crossed his arms across his chest. Stupid racist house spirit.

Zapata turned to Castiel who watched the two hunters with an awkward level of interest. He was vaguely reminded of an idle video game avatar, standing far too still and too quietly to be anything close to human. It wasn't endearing, it was creepy. Zapata wasn't sure he liked angels very much.

"So, you think you can cram this thing back into the box?"

"Yes."

"Ok, "said Zapata, "What do you need from us?"

"We'll go find Alex," offered Paige after Castiel considered their statement for a moment with a cocked head. "C'mon." she took Zapata's wrist and they walked towards the rickety stairs. When Zapata looked back over his shoulder, Castiel was tracing the floor of the house with his eyes, looking for the creature.

"So... that's an angel?"

"Not so cute without the halo, are they?"

"Is this what Gabriel is like?" asked Zapata.

"Oh, no, Gabriel is much worse." said Paige but a smile played at her lips as she said it. "They're powerful and they're perfectly capable of lying and manipulating but Castiel… Castiel is on our side."

"I can't imagine Castiel as being very capable of manipulation."

"No, he doesn't quite seem to have the hang of being human down, does he?" asked Paige, "But… they are so like us and yet so different. Unlike vamps, they've never been human. But they love and laugh and want and need. Makes you wonder just how human these 'human' emotions are, doesn't it?" There was that tone again. Sweet and sad.

"Paige. You can hunt this thing, right? The Domovoi? If Castiel can't trap it, you can kill it? It's killing people. You see that, don't you?"

"Of course." She said. It was that tone again.

Zapata made a mental note; he would have to be the one to pull the trigger.

* * *

The bedrooms in the upstairs were more of the same; looted, dusty and scratched with vandalism. Zapata was getting ready to call it quits and go back to Castiel to see if he had any luck finding Alex or the house spirit.

As he made to head down stairs, he turned to see Paige staring at the ceiling. One of the roof tiles was a shade darker than the rest. Zapata stepped into one of the bedrooms and pulled out an old chair, hoping it would hold his weight he pulled it into the hallway. Paige saw him and understood his meaning, stepping out of his way.

He stood on the chair—it made a screech of protest—and started scratching at the corners of the tile. It was a tall ceiling and a short chair and Zapata wasn't exactly Sam Winchester. Only the tips of his fingers could graze it.

He looked down at Paige and raised an eyebrow.

"You're kidding," she said, shaking her head. Zapata just gave her the same level look so she sighed and took his hand, joining him on the old chair. Zapata locked his arms around her and gave her a final look, which was met with a curt nod, and he lifted her, gaining the five or so inches he had been lacking before.

"Got it," she said after a few seconds and he heard the wooden roof tile scrape against the insulation and wooden beams of whatever attic or crawlspace they had unearthed.

"See anything?" he asked, his voice muffled against her stomach.

"Almost. Lift me a bit higher."

"You aren't exactly light" he grumbled.

Paige was sexy in a womanly way, all hips and breasts. But, while pleasing to see and feel, it didn't exactly lend itself to being lifted and carried like a damsel in distress.

"Ok, well, fuck you for that." She said, "And if I can get a few more inches I can pull myself up."

"Then how am I supposed to get in?" asked Zapata. Silence was his answer. "I don't like this plan. We are not supposed to split up, that is exactly what the creature wants."

"Hey…" she said suddenly in a voice that was hard to read. Zapata felt her slide up and out of his grip. He watched her feet disappear into the opening in the ceiling and felt the cold sweat of fear wash through him as the hole in the ceiling disappeared, smoothing over and locking itself into place. He was sealed off from her.

"Paige?!" he called as he stood alone on the chair, "Talk to me before I freak the fuck out."

"It's ok," she called, her voice was faint, shouted through a wall that had magically appeared and divided them. Zapata decided on the spot that that was the exact definition of NOT ok.

"Fuck, fuck," said Zapata, "Castiel?" he called. When nothing happened, he tried again, "Castiel?"

"Is he not with you?" Paige called through the ceiling.

"No, I…"

"Go find him, David. He'll keep you safe."

"I'm not about to leave you alone."

"I'm not… I found Alex." She said. That was even less comforting. "He's fine. I think… I think we're ok for now. It isolates its victims, David. Hunter Owens said that they all died alone. Right now you're the one who's alone and…"

And the minority guy dies first.

Fucking racist house spirit.

* * *

"Just, find Castiel." Paige pleaded through the ceiling, "Just find him and stay close to him."

There was a long and loaded pause.

"Keep your guard up." He responded and Paige felt Alex tense next to her. He waited for her to respond for a moment before she heard his feet move back downstairs and his distant voice calling for the angel, the ace up their sleeve.

She let out a long breath and sat back on her haunches as she looked around the attic.

It was hardly like the rest of the house. Tiny, twinkling Christmas lights were sprawled around the edges of the room where a thousand tiny framed pictures of the same four people, aging and regressing, a child with a violin, then the same child as a teenager in front of a car, then as a toddler in a bathtub. Tucked between the frames were trinkets and silverware, tiny treasures among the memories. At the end of the room was a portable TV, the kind with a VCR built in and the reason for the Domovoi's obsession with horror movie clichés became apparent as a tower of 1980s and 1990s tapes was stacked precariously beside it. The titles ranged from _Bloodbath at the House of Death _and _Amityville Horror._

"So," ventured Alex, "We might not be dealing with a poltergeist after all."

Paige shot him a spiteful glance and he matched her glare.

"We're working with a Domovoi. Russian house spirit." She explained.

"Oh. I guess that makes sense." He rolled his eyes in response to Paige's surprise and snapped bitterly, "My parents were hunters, and their parents before them and their parents before them. I know more than you could ever dream. Don't question me."

Paige threw her hands up in a gesture of surrender, but her eyes narrowed at his attitude. She didn't like him. She didn't trust him. But the attic wasn't even big enough for them to stand upright and the door they relied on had vanished into a smooth, impenetrable floor. She would just have to tolerate his nasty disposition.

"Fine." She said, sitting back.

Alex let out a grunt and the two hunters looked hopelessly around their confined space for a way out. Alex shifted his weight and his knee grazed Paige's. As if receiving an electric shock, she pulled her knees closer into her body. Alex gave a sneer at her overreaction.

"Don't flatter yourself, doll." He cut, "I happen to have standards. What? You think every man in the world wants to fuck you?"

Oh, good. This was starting out well. Paige had no idea why this man looked at Zapata like a friend but she prayed that Zapata would find Castiel soon.

"So, look, tits, I'll keep my hands to myself. Wouldn't want to tarnish your _virginal _flesh with my hands, would I?" Alex continued. Paige wasn't even looking at him anymore, he just kept talking. He gave a sick laugh, "Fucking whores who think you're to good for me. Suck some fucking model like Zaps, take it up the ass for him cause he looks like some movie star, but too good for me to even talk to, huh? If he touches you, it's consensual, right? If I so much as look too long, it's rape."

"What did your mother ever do to you to make you such an asshole?" Paige snapped.

"Hey, cunt, you want to talk about parent issues?" he retorted, "I know you. I know all the rumors about the men you spread your legs for. Old man Winchester, right? He had kids, didn't he? A hunter and an addict, and they're _older _than you. You sauntered on past them just to call him 'daddy' as he pounded you."

"Shut up."

"You gonna cry, slut?"

"No," Paige said, but her eyes grew hot nonetheless. She wasn't going to give Alex that satisfaction. She wasn't going to let him think that his words hurt her, because then he'd think they were true.

"What did your actual Daddy say when you brought your old man home for the holidays? They sit around and talk about how tight you were when they were both inside you?"

"My father is dead, you barbarian." whispered Paige.

Fuck it, the tears were chasing each other along her cheek but that didn't mean she had to blubber. She didn't have to curl up into herself and weep. She was hurt. She was crying. She was not helpless. She glared at him and his face fell a fraction as he saw her tears.

"Oh." was all he said.

"And I'm not having sex with Zapata, alright? We just ran into each other and took this case together."

"Oh," he said again, getting uncomfortable now.

"And you're a monster and I hate you. Just because you wear all your scars on your face doesn't mean you're the only one who has them. Asshole."

"Sorry." He said. Paige glowered at him. "Sorry." He repeated.

"Next time don't say awful things to be sorry about."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before they heard footsteps again. They glanced at each other before returning their attention fully to the floor of the attic.

"You guys still up there? You ok, Paige?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Did you find Castiel?"

"Yes." Responded Castiel's voice flatly.

"Well… get us out of here. Please."

"Very well." Said the angel and there was silence for several seconds before the attic suddenly became much more crowded.

"This was unintended." Said Castiel as he appeared, wedged between Paige and the wall, forcing her farther into Alex's space than she ever wanted to be. He handled it like a gentleman, shoving her weight away from him as though she were toxic.

"Castiel, what are you doing?!" Paige bleated.

"I was attempting to rescue you. My efforts appear to have gone awry." He said, genuinely surprised. With some difficulty, he turned and looked around the attic, "You seem to have found its nest."

"Looks like. Castiel, this is Alex, Alex, this is Castiel the angel."

"Hey." Said Alex, looking over Castiel who simply gave him a long, questioning gaze before returning his attention back to the nest.

"Why are there movies here?" he asked after a second, squinting his brow as he thought.

"Maybe the lady who used to live here liked them?" Paige offered. "It explains the pattern of the killings, at least." Castiel cocked his head to the side as he thought about Paige's words.

"They're movies about ghosts and monsters. Who do you think the house spirit is going to relate to?" spat Alex, "It's hurt and abandoned and no one is going to look at it like a human, so it is going to act like a monster. These movies are about people who kill these creatures because they're different and ugly. Maybe sitting alone and only watching them has made the Domovoi hateful. Made him into the monster he never was."

"When really, its just very lonely." Said Paige softly, but she was looking at Alex, "It wasn't always like this."

"Hey, guys?" Zapata called up through the floors. Paige had forgotten that he was now alone again and her heart sank.

"Castiel. Get us out of here. Take us back to David. He can't be alone, that's what it wants."

"I'm ok. Really. I don't like how all of you are being cornered though."

"David, please" Paige pleaded, "Be careful. Just…"

"Ok. I'll be careful." He said gently and Paige knew he was patronizing her but she didn't care. She was itching with fear and tension.


	46. Chapter 46:Elsinore IV

No sooner had Zapata said the words then the eerily silent house began to creak like it was being battered by a storm. A storm that was not there mere hours ago when the hunters walked into the house.

"It is moving the house." Said Castiel suddenly, his eyes focused on the ceiling, "It is further isolating its target."

"By 'target' you mean 'David,' right? Go, Castiel, go help him." Paige ordered the angel.

"I'm trying," he said. Paige had to struggle to not freak out.

"Fuck, fuck _fuck," _murmured Paige frantically.

Whatever Alex said to Zapata when Paige got up and went to the kitchen must have triggered the creature's radar. Alex was the first one to get split off from the group. Then Castiel showed up and Paige guessed that the angel was the element that the Domovoi wasn't expecting. He threw the entire scheme into chaos and now that the creature had him and the others trapped, it could return to seeking out it's characters.

Zapata was the only one who fell into his horror movie cliché without even trying. Alex could act macho, but he could also simply _not_. God, she hoped her theory worked.

Without warning, she lunged forward and captured Alex's mouth with hers.

"Jesus, what the fuck?" snapped Alex, shoving her off him and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Archetypes." Paige explained quickly, "It's looking for us to fall into a role and choosing its targets that way. Zapata is the only one who falls into his character without intending to. So, I'm being what it wants."

Paige couldn't remember the last time she went to the movies, but she remembered one thing about female characters and horror movies. The premise was a simple one, repackaged, rewrapped and yet the message was always the same. Black and White. Monsters and men. Good versus evil. Virgins and sluts.

Paige was hardly a virgin.

Alex opened his mouth again when the house started to shift. Paige suddenly felt like she was in free fall, her skin tingling. The sight before her eyes grew hazy.

"See you on the other side, boys."

* * *

She landed with a softer thump than she expected onto the hard floor of the kitchen. She cast her eyes around the room before she heard it breathing.

It sounded like a penny rattling around in a tin can, slow and drawn out, coming from the shadows of the room. Paige squinted to see better, trying to discern its shape from the darkness.

The Domovoi looked a bit like a monkey, long arms with wispy, shaggy fur and a human shaped head with a great tuft of the same shaggy fur on the top. Paige waited for it to lunge at her, attack her, set something loose on her, but it simply stared with small, beady eyes. Paige stood slowly, and she saw it flinch, clutching its hand—with five long fingers and small, rounded, chipped nails- over its shoulder where Paige knew she had shot it. It wasn't ready to pounce. It wasn't acting aggressive.

"I'm sorry," said Paige, pointing to the bullet sized hole on its arm," I didn't know what you were and I was scared. You know how it feels to be scared."

It kept looking at her blankly and Paige wondered if it spoke English. It was smart enough to mimic movies in real life. It was powerful enough to lock them into its little game.

"You're not those monsters." She said, "It isn't that simple. You don't have to be like this. We can get you out of here. Find you your family. You are only alone if you want to be."

She took a step towards it and it growled, baring its pale green teeth. Squared and flat, the teeth of a herbivore. Its beady eyes flicked to the curse box and then back to Paige. It repeated the motion and Paige got the idea. She hesitantly placed her hand over the top of the box. At once it looked nervous and relieved.

"Come on out," she said, "I won't hurt you."

A gunshot rang out and the creature let out a shrill scream.

"David, don't." Paige cried, but Zapata walked into the room with hard eyes pinned on the creature, his gun arm outstretched. He was focused, lethal and unwavering. Paige tried to intercept him but he shouldered past her. The Domovoi bared its teeth again and Paige felt the house begin to shift.

Zapata's gun rang out a second time and the house stilled. It didn't even scream at the fatal shot. It simply slumped over, dying alone and foreign in a world that it didn't understand filled with people who didn't understand it.

* * *

The truck ride back to the motel was silent. Far exceeding uncomfortable and creeping up onto volatile.

"You said you could shoot it Paige."

"Don't start with me."

"You're a fucking hunter and you were trying to Jane Goodall a murdering monster." Snapped Zapata.

"You said we could try to trap it."

"I said Castiel could try to trap it. He wasn't around."

"Fuck, David." Paige said and her eyes were wet. Zapata gulped around the lump in his throat. He never liked seeing any woman, but especially not Paige, cry. Paige continued, "It was scared. It was scared and alone."

"Then I put it out of its misery."

"It isn't that simple."

"Yes it fucking is. It becomes a monster once it spills blood, Paige. There is no turning back from that. Maybe it was a snuggly little sucker once upon a time but that thing turned. It was more powerful than Castiel and it needed to be taken out."

Paige wiped her eyes on her sleeve and didn't say anything. He could tell she didn't like what he was saying. He could tell she didn't agree with what he was saying. She just let him say it and pretended to listen.

It was more infuriating than if she had screamed all those things at him.

A phone buzzed and Zapata welcomed the distraction. Paige patted her pockets and dug a hand through her purse. She shook her head at Zapata.

Paige's second phone was tossed in his back seat with her coat and Paige climbed into the back of the cab to read it, not even bothering to apologize for pressing her hips in Zapata's shoulder as she clambered over the bench.

"Just Alex. Saying thank you and goodbye." she said as she read her text message.

"You gave Alex your phone number?"

Paige shrugged. She didn't rejoin him in the front seat.

"He's not the worst person I've ever met."

"He doesn't like women. You picked up on that tiny little detail, right?"

"I don't think it's as simple as that."

Zapata took a patient breath and drummed his hand on the steering wheel as he bit back his retort. He saw Paige typing a response to Alex and his grip tightened on the steering wheel. Jealousy was a petty, unproductive emotion.

"Are you some sort of masochist? Is that it? You want to save monsters and be best friends with assholes?"

"I think I liked you better when you were a sweet guy."

Zapata was glad that he happened to be pulling into the motel when she said that because he would have probably broken more than a few traffic laws with the violent way that he slammed on the truck's brakes. Paige hadn't been expecting it and was tossed forward into the back of his seat. Zapata flipped around so that he could see her, smoothing her hair and rubbing her elbow indignantly where it had cut into the car.

"I think I liked you better back when you were a hunter." He snarled at her, "I _am _a fucking _great _guy. But more than that, I'm a hunter and I can tell a slippery slope when I see one. You want to cuddle creatures that kill and befriend bloodthirsty and powerful angels and you try to see the best in them and that is _dangerous_. It is a _war, _Paige, and if you can't pull the trigger when you need to, then maybe you shouldn't be on the frontlines."

Paige glared at him and then wordlessly flung herself out of the truck, carrying all the ammo and guns that she could to her little motel room, not looking back at him. Zapata would never be able to name the force that sprung him from his seat and sent him after her. He grabbed her elbow as she tried to quickly unlock the door and escape the argument between them.

Running, running running away and Zapata didn't want to let her go. It was selfish and wrong but he wanted her. He had wanted her since he first laid eyes on her. Then, she had been grieving an old man. Her tutor, her mentor and her lover had disappeared in a single dying breath and she was so young and she didn't know how to deal.

So Zapata was going to wait. He was a great guy, after all. Great guys waited for those sorts of things.

He had wanted her when she kissed him in that hospital bed. He was weak and shaky and her eyes were rimmed with red and worry, but he wanted her. He wanted her to always be next to him, worrying about him.

Then, she had been in love with someone and completely unaware of it. Her friend, her lover had fit so easily into her life that Paige hadn't even realized it until that part of her was ripped away.

So Zapata stood aside. Great guys let the women they love be happy, even if they aren't happy with them.

And now she was running away and Zapata wanted her badly. Not in a blue balls way—or at least not entirely in a blue balls way—but he was tired of being there to watch her hurt. He wanted her to scream at him, fight with him, hell, even slap him if she needed to because for once since Jo died she wasn't being quiet and hesitant. She was challenging and infuriating and when he pressed on the temper he didn't even know she had she rounded on him with such passion that is intoxicated him and turned him on and made him want her more than ever.

That was fucked up. Great guys didn't do that shit but Zapata was tired of playing the sweet role that other people chose for him.

He spun her around and kissed her, hard and commanding His lips demanded that she yield to him, his hands framing her hips in a way that was almost explicit.

And then it hit him like a freight train. Her girlfriend had just died. He had just shot the snuggly pet she had her eyes on and she was fuming at him. There was giving up the notion of being perfect and then there was shoving up into a young woman without permission simply because he wanted to. Great guy or not, there was no excuse for that.

He pulled away those crucial few inches; it almost killed him.

"Shit, Paige, I'm so—"

But she leaned up and kissed him again, so desperate. Zapata had been driven insane by his lust, but Paige was desperate for something he couldn't name. It wasn't sex, but it was a distant cousin and Zapata was a-ok with that.

"Fuck." He murmured, pinning his hips against hers, his erection undisguised and needy. "Paige, want you so bad. Please."

"Zapata, I…" she started. She was suddenly looking at the ground, away from him. "Stop. We can't… not tonight…"

What was she promising? Zapata backed off immediately, his hands leaving her hips and shoving into his pockets like he was locking him there. Maybe he was.

"You need time… before sex and intimacy and stuff… it's totally fine. I understand. We can take it slow. I'll wait."

"I never asked you to wait, David." She murmured.

"I want to be with you, Paige. I'll do it on your terms. I just want you."

"I… I can't."

"Because of Jo?" he asked softly. She had told him that she couldn't love after John. She was the least deserving person in the world to have her lover snatched from her bed. Again. "You don't think you can love again?"

"Oh…oh, if there was one thing she taught me, it's that you can't turn that off. You can't decide when and who and how you'll love." Paige was smiling as she said that, but it was short lived. She still wouldn't look up at him.

"So you need time? Before you can be with someone like that?" Zapata asked. His hand rested on the door of the room, framing the numbers. He tried not to think of what he would do if she let him in. How he would slam his lips up against hers. How he would undress her and kiss her. Hard and fast, sweet and sensual, he didn't care. He just wanted to be on the other side of the door with her. The one that locked regret and inhibitions outside with the rest of the world. His fingers slipped against the peeling red paint. "You need time before you let someone into that room with you?"

"It's more than sex, David… it's you." Her eyes flicked up to his shyly. Sadly. "If we go in there, it won't just be once and you know it."

"Then forget future." Whispered Zapata, his hand drifted from the door above her head to her cheek, then her lip and neck. It looked easy. In fact, his fingers had been itching for her skin since he braced himself against her wall. "Let's go back to talking about tonight."

"I don't think you can tell the difference,"

"Kiss me, Paige. " he murmured into her hair, "They told me you were dead and I hurt. Por favor, ahora. Besame, tocame, quiereme. Este noche, solo este noche y estaria contento."

_Love me_ he begged, _ Tonight, just tonight, I will be content. _

"I can't, David." She whispered against his lips.

He knew he shouldn't. The Great guy she preferred would never dream of it, but he pressed his lips against hers. She had lost her person and Zapata prayed he would never know how that felt.

But she had people to lose. She had people who loved her and knew her and Zapata was so alone when he was in the arms of all the other women in the world.

He wanted this one. He wanted this one to know him and he wanted to know her, inside and out.

"Goodnight." She whispered when he gave her a moment. She opened the door and slipped inside, fast and smooth so that Zapata had to blink twice at the new solid door in his face. Only the click of the lock told him that he had been dismissed.

* * *

"_I don't want to be John." _

"_Then I have wonderful news; you are _not _a fifty year old man."_

"_Wrong time to be funny, Paige." Jo sighed, _"_You waited two years. Two whole years of keeping men and me at bay for what? A memory?"_

"_Jo, I know you don't understand, but it wasn't like—"_

"_I don't really care, Paige. I'm sorry you lost him but he's dead. He's dead and has been for a while and I don't want you to sit around after I'm gone."_

"_I've asked you not to…"_

"_I'm going to die, Paige. If not tomorrow, then someday. Maybe I'll be old and bluehaired, maybe it will be while I'm still young, but no matter what and no matter when, don't make your heart and your body some kind of fucked up memorial to me."_

"_Don't do that, Jo. Don't throw the idea of you dying on me and then start trying to whore me off. This was a bad idea and I don't want to talk about it."_

"_What if it was me, Paige? What if it was you that died and I was left behind. Would you want me to spend my life mourning you?"_

"_Of course not," said Paige, her eyes misting despite her smile, "All I would want for you was to go out, whenever you end up going out, as well fucked and well loved as you can manage." Jo grinned as Paige handed her words back to her._

"_Zapata likes you. You like him. Life is short."_

"_Don't, Jo."_

"_You and Sam get along really well."_

"_Stop it,"_

"_Just… promise me, ok? Someone, anyone. Man, woman. I don't care who you end up with if you don't end up with me, as long as you aren't alone. I love you. All I want is for you to love and be loved in return."_

"_You can't quote Moulin Rouge. You know that isn't playing fair."_

"_Hey, love and war, baby. We got ourselves a solid heaping of both." Jo grinned and Paige met her mouth with hers, rolling her so that the limber muscles of her partner were tucked beneath her. Paige started scooting down Jo's body, her tongue twirling over the taught flesh. _

_Jo's eyes were rolled back, her hands were in Paige's hair as Paige went lower and lower, but all she was whispering was, "Promise me, promise me, promise me" _

"_I promise." Paige muttered, and Jo's eyes grew wet for once._

"_Jo?" Paige asked. Jo responded with a nod. "Promise me too, ok?"_

_Jo smiled wetly and nodded before Paige's mouth disappeared beneath the blankets on her bed._

* * *

Paige waited until she heard Zapata walk off before she let loose the sob in her throat. She had gone from numb to pissed to horny to sad in the blink of an eye and it was all just too much.

Her mother had always told her that when you said you 'needed' a drink you had a drinking problem. The minute you thought of it as a cure was the minute that it became your poison. Paige fought the urge to call Gabriel. She was sure that he would never let her live down a booty call. She just needed a break from the swirl of guilt and sad and need in her head. A break that came in the blast of good feelings she got when she kissed him. It was once, and brief and it had ended in disaster but she'd had a taste of angel drug and she'd be lying if she didn't admit that she could really use a hit right now. She shook the craving from her head.

Gabriel was her best friend. She didn't want him to be her poison too. She sighed and climbed into her bed, dropping her face into her hands as life wrapped around her like a hurricane.

* * *

**I used to work as a waitress, and whenever we had to serve food that was a little burnt or just plain less than ideal, we would call it taking the ugly girl to prom. **

**This, right here? Not my best work. I just needed to wrap the hunt up and I rushed it and I apologize for serving this to you. But the next chapter is written and being edited as we speak. Stay tuned. You'll definitely want to. **

**Reviews, please! You're more than welcome to call me a lazy asshole!**


	47. Chapter 47: I Smell Sex and Angel

**I have published 2 Chapters today, one right after the other. This is the second one. Turn around and read the last chapter, or at least the second half of the last chapter. **

**So, I guess that this is the time that I should tell you, but I'm going to start playing with the time frame of season 5 and 6. It will stay canon (unless I fuck up by accident) but I'm going to turn time into taffy and stretch it out. Also, I suppose we're dealing with a season 6 Castiel more than a season 5 Castiel. You'll see. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Castiel wished he had thought to look before he popped into Paige's room.

"Fuck, Castiel!" she said with a lurch. She was sitting with her back resting against the head of the bed and her legs tucked under her. She had jumped and turned away in the style that humans tended to do when they were caught doing something shameful or private. When she looked back over to him, he saw the rims of her eyes were puffy and red. She had been crying.

Castiel had no idea what to do or say, so he did neither.

"What's up?" she asked after they stared at each other in silence for a few minutes.

"You are sad."

"Yeah, Castiel. Just in general, these days." she sighed. Her tone wasn't hostile, but neither was it inviting. She wanted to be left alone. "You really shouldn't just appear in women's rooms, you know. People get the wrong idea. Especially when it is a man and a woman alone in a room with a bed in it."

"Humans of opposing genders are not incapable of maintaining platonic relationships. Besides, I am not a human."

"Don't you forget who I'm friends with." Said Paige with a weak smile, "You aren't so different from us, either."

"I happen to know for a fact that humans can maintain a friendship without the slightest hints of romance."

Castiel hadn't meant for the bitterness in his tone to come out, but there it was. In his celestial state, he was simply a wave of power. No gender, no appearance. He could not show emotions without deliberately stating them and he therefore hadn't thought he even had them. But the longer he sat in Jimmy Novak's skin, in _his _skin, the more that the convoluted, infuriating and exhausting emotions seemed to surface; written across his features, coming out in his words.

Paige read it on his face and she looked even sadder than she had before.

"Oh, Castiel." She said and her voice was so heavy with pity that Castiel simultaneously wanted to cringe and disappear. "Oh, Castiel. I'm so sorry."

She sat up so that she was on her knees on the bed, putting her at exactly his eyelevel. She pulled him in to her arms and Castiel was rigid at first. It was unfamiliar and confining, but she held strong so he relaxed into it.

He had only had passing desires to be so close to a human with their smells and their sounds and their skin. As an angel, tiny details were magnified, he heard her heartbeat, he smelled her hair. Or perhaps it was all so strikingly vivid because he'd never stopped to look before, or rather, had never stopped and looked closely at a _woman_ before.

He slipped his arms around Paige and he let himself relax into the friendly intimacy. It was really just mirroring her hold on him, though it was different since she was smaller and inherently a different shape than himself. It was awkward to try and hold her by the shoulders, as she held him, so he dropped his hands to her waist and that was much better.

When he imagined himself being held by a human, he had always imagined being wrapped against a hard body. Flat chest, hard muscles, a triangle rather than an hourglass. Angles rather than curves. Heat and power, bordering on violence. Dominating and being dominated. Masculine and masculine was a bit like war. Masculine with feminine was a more like the sky and the earth, different, unequal in strength and size, but in a natural harmony. It was less exciting to Castiel, but it was nice.

He could see how men could want to melt into the softness. He could see how men could want to surrender to the lingering touches, welcoming him, promising tenderness. He had never expected tenderness when he thought of himself having sex. He decided that he didn't dislike the idea. He needed more. He needed all she had to give.

Castiel knew that there were a million intricate invitations and dances and signs between people and sex. He had watched humanity for thousands of years and the logistics of it weren't terribly complicated. He understood the biology of an erection and a woman's natural wetness but the plays on words, euphemisms, warm grazing fingertips, prolonged glances were too complicated to keep track of. He found them subjective and inconsistent and, frankly, dull to watch from afar. However, he was not so ignorant as to not know that permission needed to be granted and asking 'may I insert my phallus into your vagina' tended to kill whatever subtle mood needed to be created for a favorable answer.

Jimmy's body, _his _body seemed ok with skipping right to the intercourse as he felt his blood pool in his loins, an innocent biological question to her warm touch and closeness. Not wanting his vessel's penis to ask for him, Castiel pulled away a few inches. From this new perspective, he could see her face. Her eyes were brown, making the distinction between pupil and iris a bit more complicated than he had imagined when he thought of green eyes and pupils, blown with intrigue. Her warm eyes were pretty, in their own right.

She was the one who leaned forward and met his mouth with hers, but it wasn't hard or needy and there was no tongue at all. It wasn't like Castiel imagined his first kiss turning out, but he decided he didn't dislike it.

"You kissed me." stated Castiel, as though trying to be sure. Lips against lips was hard to misinterpret, but it wasn't a deliberate invitation to sex.

Castiel needed sex.

"Yes. I'm… I'm sorry."

"You don't love me."

"It isn't always about love, Castiel, you have to know that."

"I do." Castiel said as he thought for a moment. "I love someone."

"I had guessed as much. I'm sorry, Castiel. It would take an idiot to not see how much you love him. Unfortunately, he is kind of an idiot. "Castiel opened his mouth to tell her that he was _not _an idiot and he loved him and she shouldn't say such things before he saw her weak smile and guessed that she was kidding.

"I _want_ you." Castiel said, marveling at the emotion.

Castiel tried to muddle through the feelings in his gut. Betrayal was there. He recognized that one as clear as day. Uriel had lied and used his faith. His father had lied and used his faith. Castiel trusted them to love him and protect him and they didn't care at all. That was what betrayal felt like.

He felt arousal. He had first felt flickers of it when he stood too close to a particular broad chest. He had felt it when that prostitute, Chastity, had kicked him out of her room and he was pulled into a one armed hug. The resulting shared joke was more intimate than sex with her could have ever been. He had been cherished and _seen _as something unique and special and funny and Castiel didn't want it to end. He didn't want to be held politely at arms length. That was what arousal felt like.

Castiel felt guilt. Anna looked at him with heartbreak. He was doing the right thing, or what he thought was the right thing and she had gotten hurt because of it and it didn't feel right at all. It hurt. It was sticky and haunting him and he kept wishing he could go back in time and just _not. _That was what guilt felt like.

But most of all, Castiel felt affection. Dean's all but imperceptible smile over a desk of papers. Leaning against a car hood, saying "you don't gotta apologize to me, Cas. You never gotta apologize to me." And now, a warm softness, wrapping herself around him, looking at him sadly, but willingly all the same. He wasn't very funny, he lacked their grace with words and charm, they didn't understand him, but they liked him anyways. They wanted him with them anyways.

"It is very complex." Castiel said after he pondered for a minute, "To love someone and still want someone else."

She had smelled like Gabriel. An angel. She was grieving and she came back smelling like an archangel. Castiel had heard what happened when soul and grace met each other within intimate touches. This could work in his favor.

"Are you using me?" asked Castiel abruptly. His tone wasn't accusing.

"_You_ showed up in _my_ room, Castiel."

"Are you trying to initiate sex with me because of my Grace?"

"I kissed you. You brought up sex."

"I apologize." Said Castiel and Paige looked like she was uncomfortable and wanted him to leave but Castiel very much needed to stay. He _wanted_ to stay. "I misunderstood."

"No." said Paige, with a sigh "No, you didn't."

"Lust is a natural, human need." Ventured Castiel, "Jo would never want you to deny yourself that."

Paige grew teary eyed and Castiel mentally kicked himself for screwing up so badly without even trying. He had been an idiot to think that he could go through with it himself. Sex was delicate in more ways than one and Castiel was fumbling all over it, but he had made up his mind and it needed to be done. He _wanted _it done, and that was the most baffling thing of all.

"You can use me, if you want." Said Castiel suddenly. He could tell by they way that Paige looked up at him, shocked, that he had said something wrong again. "I… I wanted to use you."

"Thanks, Castiel." He knew enough to recognize sarcasm.

"I'm not saying this right."

"No, you're not." Said Paige, but she sat back up on her knees anyways, resuming her level to him. Hesitantly, this time, she put her arms up to his shoulders and searched his face. Castiel knew that facial expressions were not his strong suit, so he made his intentions clear by leaning in and kissing her this time.

Paige's lips began to move against his and Castiel was shocked at his vessel's reaction to a few small pressure points against his mouth. He had watched, of course, but he had never felt and, it turned out, humans had a very good reason for fornicating as often as they did. Castiel wanted more, and faster, so he pushed his tongue against her lips. She opened them and Castiel felt her go rigid and then loose with the effects of his grace coursing through her.

He felt her fingers find his tie and slowly undo the knot. Sliding it from the collar of his shirt, she pulled from the kiss and leaned back, lying on the bed. Castiel forgot everything he had ever learned from watching over her species because all he could do was mourn the loss of her heat against his body. All he could do was stare with wide eyes as she pulled her shirt over her head, exposing skin that he had seen a million times before on a million different women. It meant so much more this time, because this time it was for him. She undid her bra and Castiel wanted to touch the soft twin swells of flesh and femininity and he decided to throw all his preconceived notions of sex out the window.

He had almost expected sex to be dull. He had never expected to want to kiss and taste skin that was the exact same as every other inch of skin of every human on the planet. It was nothing new but it was all that Jimmy, _Castiel_, could think of; this woman, _right now_ so very naked and precious in her willingness. He could feel his own erection pressing against his pants, throbbing as Paige revealed a little more skin, inch by inch. He didn't even realize that he had a lump in his throat until he tried to swallow it down once Paige was naked on the bed before him.

He realized that he should get naked too, that was generally the preferred way to do this thing. He started fumbling with the buttons on his shirt when he felt Paige, soft tender Paige, reach out and push the trench coat from his shoulders. She slid it off of him and placed it gently over the back of the chair before politely unbuttoning his shirt for him.

"I… I have no need to… take it off…" he tried to explain. She smiled kindly and shook her head, quietly telling him to not worry about it. Castiel watched her slide off his jacket and then the button down, placing them both gently over the chair where she had laid his coat. Her hand skimmed towards his pants and this time she looked up to him for permission, which he eagerly granted. He was all but pulsating with need and he knew the one sure way to get rid of it.

As she undid his zipper, she reached into the pants and he felt the world stop spinning for a moment as she grazed his length with gentle fingertips. He must have made a throaty, undignified noise, because Paige gave a small chuckle and wrapped her hand around his member, stroking softly. Castiel shivered as he felt cool air hit his oversensitive and exposed flesh when Paige slid his pants from his waist. Suddenly he felt himself enveloped in warm wetness as Paige wrapped her lips over his length. All the nerves and muscle memory of Castiel's human vessel told his angel consciousness to take a hike and let it do what it wanted to do. His hips jutted forward erratically and Paige gagged before pulling her head off of him.

"Hey, easy, Castiel. Easy, we've got all night."

Seeming to decide against the risk of being impaled again, Paige leaned back on the mattress. Castiel got the idea and kicked his pants and shoes off as he climbed in with her, finding space for his knees between her thighs. He hesitated and Paige gave him another sad look.

"You've never done this to a woman before." She guessed.

"I understand how it is done."

"Would you rather wait? For the—person you love?" She asked, and Castiel felt his heart squeeze as he realized that he would never be in this position with the human he loved. He had been feeling excited and wanted and now he felt the cold hard fingers of reality squeeze him unforgivingly.

"This is adequate." He stated and Paige let out a choked laugh and looked away from him, still grinning.

"That wasn't what I was supposed to say." Castiel deduced. Paige giggled again and shook her head. "You are here too." He added defensively.

"Yes, Castiel." She said, scooting so that the head of his swollen member brushed against wet heat, making him tremble "I'm here too. Love comes with risks and vulnerability and promises that hurt, they hurt so much, when it dies… you can't hurt me." She ran a finger down his cheek, across his lips and over his chest. The next words she said were soft, "I can't hurt you, either."

Paige sat up and recaptured Castiel's mouth with hers, pulling him so that his naked chest was pressed against hers.

She reached between them and stroked his throbbing need. Castiel leaned forward and tasted salty human flesh for the first time. It was so impossibly warm that Castiel marveled at it as he nipped at the skin, causing Paige to gasp. That was a very satisfying sound so Castiel did it again against her stomach. Then he experimented with the thinner skin along the generous mound of breast and that got an actual moan. Castiel was losing it and it couldn't be over yet.

"Need—" he managed and he looked down between their legs. He placed a hand against her folds and almost lost it again when she trembled.

"Wait." She said, rolling over and sorting through her purse on floor by the foot of her bed. The new angle of her sex as she bent over was especially inviting, so Castiel reached forward and traced it with his fingers in that way that she had liked so much the first time. She whimpered again and returned to him with a silver wrapper clutched in her hand and Castiel knew what it was.

He nodded his consent. She opened the condom wrapper and slid it on his erection for him, running her palm along it as she leaned up and kissed him again.

"How do you want-?" she asked. Castiel realized that she was asking him what position he wanted to preform sex in and he was drawing a complete blank.

He had met the soul of the man who wrote the Kama Sutra and was well acquainted with every conceivable position, it should not have been so difficult a decision, but all Castiel wanted to do was sink into her plush heat he didn't much care how. She sat back onto her knees and rolled over so that Castiel was greeted with the same view he had seen when she was looking for a condom. "It might be better… this way. " she said, over her shoulder "If you wanted to think about…"

About the person he loved. If he _fucked _her from behind, he wouldn't see her face and could therefore think about the man he loved. It was almost painfully too much and Castiel felt guilt. He knew the sentiment well.

"I want to see you," he said, holding her torso and gently easing her onto her back. He looked over her, dark hair and dark eyes, heavily lidded and nervously looking back up at him. She was nervous too and for whatever reason, that was the most soothing thought Castiel could conjure. He reached out and ran a hand along her hairline, tucking any flyways away from her face. He pressed a thumb against her lip and she parted them, flicking her tongue across the pad of his finger.

She was not what he had imagined he would want when he imagined sex, but he needed to go through with it. He just needed to. He _wanted_ to.

He pressed his face into her neck and she wrapped her arms around him again. It wasn't love. It was two people who needed each other. Castiel decided that he didn't dislike it. Mutual need could be as beautiful as mutual love in its own right.

He reached between them and lined himself up, sliding into her like a missing puzzle piece finally being rejoined and she threw her head back as his grace got her high again.

"Don't stop." She whispered, her voice was so thin it almost broke, "Keep going, please keep going." She dug her fingers into the back of his thighs and Castiel rolled his hips again. It was like taking a bite to eat; Castiel's human vessel knew what to do without him consciously thinking about it. They began moving together, slapping together and Paige wrapped her legs around his waist as he rode her.

Her breasts bounced with every thrust and Castiel found himself a bit hypnotized by the motion. She closed her eyes and Castiel knew that it was his grace more than his skills as a lover that was making her so high. That thought came with another complex emotion and Castiel was, frankly, up to his limit in feelings. His vessel's natural actions and wants, however, were blissfully uninhibited. His brother had told him to treat his vessel, and he too would be rewarded. He shoved the thought of Gabriel from his mind, and let Jimmy do what he had done a thousand times before. Jimmy had fathered a child and his body knew what it was doing. It sped up.

"It's happening," he murmured after rocking together for a few minutes, and Paige opened her eyes and ran her fingers through his hair, following the trail to the nape of his neck. She leaned up and started kissing his neck and his shoulder finally nipping down unexpectedly. The shock of it forced Castiel up and over the building knot in his gut, locking his legs as his human vessel found the release that he had been denied for almost two years.

The force of his grace's climax made Paige arch and run her hands over Castiel's back again. He could feel her muscles lock and unlock as she experienced four small orgasms, one after the other, hitting her like waves of the ocean in a storm.

Castiel rolled off of her and pulled her head into his shoulder. He liked her weight against him, anchoring him to the earth. He liked feeling her wetness against his thigh. He hadn't expected it at all, but he found he didn't want to let her go.

The feelings were still there, guilt, shame, need, affection. They were stronger now that his vessel's constant plea of "_sex, sex, sexsexsexsexsex" _seemed to have dissipated for the time being.

He used her. He fucked her. Everything that was would be different now. One day she might hate him, but today she was tucked in his arms, merciful to his need and his mistakes.

"How do you feel?" he asked her.

"Peaceful," she said after she mulled it over. "Jo is… Jo is dead. She's gone. I'll never see her again—she never wanted me to be alone… I'm glad it was you." She said, pressing her lips against his collar bone. Sloppy and sleepy but his nonetheless. She was glad it was with him. She was glad she was with him.

"How do you feel? Why did you come into my room in the first place?"

"I miss my siblings." He said softly, truthfully, nakedly, " I don't sleep. I wanted to see how you were. I wanted this." Castiel ran his hand down her length and he must have said the right thing for once because Paige hummed in contentment and held him tighter.

He was almost envious of her sleep as it took her, slowly from him. It would all be different in the morning. Castiel hated his decisions now. He hated that she was more than he ever thought he wanted.

Dean had once said that to make an omelet, you needed to break a few eggs. Dean never cooked and even on the rare occasion that he did, he never attempted anything so trying as an omelet. Sam translated it for him, saying to do what needed to be done, there would be people he would have to hurt.

It sounded so much more pleasant when Dean talked of eggs than when Sam talked of victims.

He shook the envy from the head as he pulled out of her arms and began to put his clothes back on. The buttons took several tries, but he managed. He took a deep breath before he did what he had to do.

Castiel walked to Paige's head and held a finger to her temple. If she had been dreaming, it left her. Her face fell slack, wiping the loving expression from her features.

He then retrieved the empty condom from the bed sheets, removing his evidence. Castiel stepped back and vanished from the room.

* * *

Paige didn't need to know how much Gabriel could get through their forint connection. Humans always got squeamish about that sort of thing.

When Gabriel had locked the coin to her neck, where it was constantly in contact with her skin, he had a twenty four hour Paige radio station. Usually he left it sitting in the back of his consciousness as she didn't always feel anything terribly interesting; generally just a low hum of depression, broken by chirps of excitement, adrenaline, even amusement. The latter occurring more frequently as of late.

Gabriel had wanted to laugh when he realized what he was getting through the connection this time. He could only feel emotions, not words, phrases or images, but he hardly needed a diagram to guess what Paige had been doing.

Tenderness and affection, a sweet swell of being understood and understanding. Then need. Human need. Nervousness, need, affection, need, satisfaction which, oddly enough, created more need until pleasure came through to him so hard he had to stop what he was doing and bend Jakab over whatever flat, waist height surface that Gabriel could find and pound into him rough and fast, just to find some release. Then, of course, Jakab demanded to be returned in kind and Gabriel forgot about Paige for a few minutes, as he obliged his partner.

He was grinning to himself as he tried to follow her trail to her whereabouts through their connection. Their connection which, only an hour ago, had been interrupted in a sinful rhythm, logically attributed to the coin pendant bouncing on and off her chest. Gabriel was an expert and unless she was _really _enjoying a ride on a mechanical bull, Paige sounded like some getting laid. Someone getting laid _well_.

He was about to congratulate her on getting porked good and proper as he appeared in her room but he froze in horror as the details of the room came into focus.

The room which reeked of sex and angel.

* * *

Castiel was torn from the sky over a corn field in Iowa.

He hadn't expected to be able to hide from his brother forever, but neither had he thought he would be caught so quickly. He didn't fight his older brother's hold as he was mercilessly dragged over tall stalks of crop and then finally thrown, face first, into the unyielding dirt. Castiel laid on the ground for a few minutes, trying to recover when Gabriel's foot crushed into his spine. He yelled out, but didn't try to scramble from his brother's hold. He knew he was no match. He knew that if he sat back and took it, Gabriel would get bored or guilty and leave him be. Or he would kill him faster.

"What." Gabriel hit Castiel across the face, causing him to roll onto his back on the hard ground, "Were." Gabriel kicked his shoulder, rolling Castiel back onto his stomach, "You," Castiel's face was shoved into the dirt, "Thinking?" Gabriel used his grace to lift Castiel off the ground before slamming his little brother into the wall of the silo, three acres away.

Castiel slid to the ground, staring up at his brother as he appeared, wondering if Gabriel was done. There was no blade in his hand. Gabriel wasn't going to kill him any time soon.

"Why do you smell like Paige?"

Gabriel didn't need to ask the question. Castiel didn't bother to answer.

"You are not an idiot, so why _why _are you sticking your dick into my prophet line?"

Castiel still remained silent, so Gabriel used his grace to find Castiel's wings and twist.

"You know, you _know _what will come to pass." Castiel nodded, so Gabriel gave another twist to Castiel's wing, causing him to wrack with pain. "You know what is written, Castiel, so _why_?"

"Her destiny glows brighter everyday, Gabriel. They _brought her back._ How long do you think she had before they started to interfere? A month? Two?"

"I will deal with that when it comes."

"I did it for you, brother."

"You _what?_" asked Gabriel. Anger was replaced with sheer dread. "Castiel, I've tolerated your little game of hide-from-the-apocalypse, but what is written will _always _find a way to come to pass. _Always._ You can meddle with Lucifer and Michael's vessels. You can try and escape Daddy's plan for us, but don't you _dare _fuck with _my _prophets."

"She wasn't your prophet before. You rebelled, Gabriel." Said Castiel, "You rebelled because it was too hard to watch them do that to humans. To innocent humans. Can't you see that we're the same? I'm tired of them using people as their puppets. Pawns in their prophecies."

"That's real rich, Castiel." Snapped Gabriel, "It's wrong when they do it, but you? It's ok when you pop in and change the course of their destinies. Is that it?"

"I made it better," said Castiel, "I saved her from her own fate."

"How was that, again? Cause it looks to me like you fucked her, wiped her memory and then planted a lie. Was that David Zapata in her bed? You kinky son of a bitch, I told you to invite me to your future ménage trois."

"I'm helping." Said Castiel, but his voice lacked the confidence he had earlier. Hearing his plan thrown back in his face like that by his older brother planted that terrible seed of doubt in his head. Castiel knew doubt.

"You've gotten yourself all tangled up in her destiny. Now you are a guest star in what will come to pass. Idiot, idiot brother."

"It doesn't have to be like that."

"Yes. It. Does." Said Gabriel. He pinched the bridge of his nose and seemed very small to Castiel, who wasn't phased by his average sized vessel. Gabriel's grace was stretched thin to the point of ripping. He looked defeated, "For fucks sake, Castiel, one day she is going to come after you and _kill _you. Why don't you get that? Don't make me watch my friend kill my brother. I already have to watch Michael and Lucifer duke it out. Don't make me watch this too."

"I am not human. I haven't a soul. It's a loophole, Gabriel, don't you see? Now her destiny has been filled but she needn't kill me since Jimmy is already dead. I saved her from that. See, brother? Destiny needn't be bloody. She can be happy, now."

"That's why she's sleeping next to Zapata."

"He loves her. He can take care of them. They can be a family. Remember how she could never have a family because of what was written? Now she can. I'm _helping _Gabriel. She's been hurt enough."

"You don't think this will hurt her?"

"It is better this way." Castiel asserted, "She'll see, in time."

"Just like Michael and Lucifer and the other angels will see in time?" Gabriel choked through a dark laugh. He ran his hand through his hair and leveled Castiel with the coldest look that Castiel had ever seen his vibrant brother give, "When she does come for you, Castiel, and she will- she has to- she will be holding my blade."

"If… if it must come to pass… I will hold my arms out to her and accept fate as it is."

"Castiel, you fool." Said Gabriel and his voice sounded weak, "You didn't thwart fate. You just got in its way."

"It is done." said Castiel and Gabriel flinched.

Gabriel vanished and Castiel sat on the ground of the field as doubt, his nemesis and his companion, settled in around him again.

* * *

**REVIEWS?! PLEASE?! If you were ever to leave a review on a chapter, THIS WOULD BE THE ONE!**


	48. Chapter 48:Play it Again, Sam

**So, super shorty chapter, mostly in response to the beautiful anonymous review I got today. I busted out this chappie, hope you enjoy.**

* * *

The unkind light of morning landed on David Zapata's face, waking him from the most intense slumber of his life. He felt like he had been comatose for 24 dreamless hours.

He sat up, wiping the disorientation from his eyes, when he spotted a suitcase on the table. He never left his suitcase on his little table, preferring for it to accumulate the cluster of wrappers and coffee cups indicative of the heavy research of a tricky hunt.

That general, comforting clutter was gone as well. Someone had been in his room.

He reached beneath the bed to the mousegun he kept near him while he slept. His hand closed over empty air and Zapata was suddenly very awake.

He also wasn't alone.

Fear was replaced with shock as he looked at the naked back of his, apparently, forgotten lover judging by the clothes placed over the back of the chair near the bed. It was a pretty back, with five small birds tattooed across the shoulder, each in flight, like a flock startled and flying to the heavens. As he pondered the tattoo, she moved again.

Rolling onto her back, the sheet fell revealing her face and the rich, plump breasts that Zapata had definitely spent way too much time thinking about. He had assumed who was lying beside him before she rolled over, hoped, more like.

Women didn't often want to stay the night in the arms of strange men in seedy motels. They liked that he was different, a little exotic and mysterious and they would be his for an hour, but then they left after they came and the dirty motel for dirty deeds simply became uncomfortable. He didn't much mind. He didn't want to actually, physically, sleep together either.

But if he did share a bed with a woman, he had only ever wanted it to be Paige.

He fell back against the bed, literally straining himself as he thought about the night before. He had been angry. Angry and demanding and… the kiss. The last thing he remembered was her shutting the door in his face, telling him thanks but no thanks.

His movement woke her up and she shifted luxuriously beneath the sheets before her toes stroked his leg. He wished that that had triggered something, a jolt, a memory of her doing that, carding her hands through his hair and rubbing up against him because he was really not liking how things were stacking up.

She was facing him now and blinking slowly as she looked at him. She squinted at him for a long moment. Zapata just squinted back.

She sat up, much to suddenly, judging by the way she clutched her forehead, then she jerked the blankets up to cover her naked chest as she registered her nudity. She put her forehead to her knees and let out a frustrated whimper. Zapata untucked the sheet from himself and gently draped it over her, giving her a bit more modesty.

She opened and closed her mouth quietly, seeming to struggle between sheer horror and anger. Bad. This was looking so epically bad on his part. He rolled away from her, placing his feet on the floor when he heard the definitive clink of bottles being knocked over. All his friends were there at his feet, Jose, Jack and Captain Morgan.

Worse, things just got a million times worse with that little fact.

"What did we do?" Paige suddenly asked the silent room.

Zapata didn't even bother to answer, he just looked over his shoulder, across the bed to her. She was mirroring his position, her feet on the ground, looking over her shoulder at him. Two, naked backed lovers divided by an empty bed.

"I'm just going to go," said Zapata, standing suddenly and finding his clothes heaped by his side of the bed.

"David, wait," Paige pleaded, and Zapata froze for the need in her tone more than anything, "David, I can't remember anything."

"We got drunk, Paige." He said, bitingly. She recoiled at his tone. He took a deep breath, rubbed his hands together and sat back on the bed. "We got drunk and we fucked, alright?"

"I… I _don't remember_ David. I don't even remember drinking. I don't remember… that…"

"Never got blackout drunk before?"

"No."

"Well, aren't you a saint."

"David, what's the matter with you? Stop being like…"

"Never had a man be a total ass after you finally gave it up?"

"No."

"Well, aren't you a little school girl,"

"David, stop it." Paige pleaded and she was crying now. "You're starting to sound like Alex."

Bad, so bad. So, fucking horribly, train wreck level bad and Zapata was taking it out on her. He turned around and he looked at her, scared and wrapped up in their sheets. She didn't know what it was like. He did. He really, truly, did. Better than anyone ever should.

She was his dream. She was that thing that he might have one day. If there was such thing as a happily ever after and if he was one of the few lucky sons of bitches to get a stab at it, it was her. She was that woman, at the end of the war. She was his woman.

It was stupid, he realized it was stupid, but it kept him sane. It kept him decent. It kept him alive once or twice and now he was scaring her.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He murmured, "Forgive me. Please forgive me."

"Forgive what?" she asked, "What did we do? What do you remember?"

"You really can't figure it out?"

"So, we did… that?"

"Yes."

"You remember it?"

"No, but, ah, that isn't exactly new. For me. Waking up, naked. Not remembering the night before…"

"Oh."

"I'm… I'm going to leave… now… and… I'm so sorry, Paige. I won't call you again. I won't bother you."

"David, wait, don't be so dramatic, I mean, c'mon, it's… us. This… this isn't that unexpected, is it?"

Zapata swallowed his laugh as it made its way out his throat. The last thing in the world Paige needed was to be laughed at. Maybe it would be better if he never pointed it out to her. Maybe it would be better if she didn't add up the facts of alcohol, reluctance, a black out. Maybe that was one equation that didn't need to be solved.

Everyone called him a great guy. Everyone called him a sweet guy, a perfect guy. If only they knew.

Rufus had once remarked that it was like a Dr Jekyll Mr. Hyde thing. Zapata was such an easy going guy on the surface that something really nasty had to be lurking just below the water, just to balance that shit out.

"Goodbye, Paige," he said, fighting the sob as she watched him leave her.

Leaving her alone again, and Zapata knew perfectly well what a dick move that was. But the only kinder thing that he could have done then turn around, hold her, kiss her, lay her back on the sheets and do it over, right this time, would be for him to walk out. For him to leave so that way she would always remember him as the sweet guy.

She would never know him as he truly was; his father's son.

He was dialing his cell phone as he threw what was left of his belongings into his truck.

"Hey, Rufus, it's me... I... I screwed up."

* * *

Given the complete lack of chaos on Earth, Gabriel guessed that he was the only angel who knew about Castiel's little indiscretion. He supposed it made sense, Paige was branded with the sigils, Gabriel could only find her through the coin. Castiel found her when she called him.

Since Paige was batting for the 'not letting the world end' team, she really didn't have much need to call Lucifer and Michael to her. So, no, no one needed to know. If anything, she was even less on the angel radar since that little clock on her destiny wasn't buzzing anymore. That little schedule of all the things that would come to pass were ticking along, right in order so archangels could busy themselves doing other things.

Archangels besides Gabriel, who was possibly the only one who realized the gravity of the fucked up situation.

It had been a week of Gabriel, hiding in the trenches, waiting for hell or heaven fire to rain down upon them before he appeared in her room as she slept. She was above the blankets, a hunt laid out beside her and an old movie playing on the TV.

It would hurt more than the first time, since it had been longer now, but Gabriel treaded softly towards her, his hand outstretched. If he was careful, he could do it, heal her and leave nothing more than a bad dream. He didn't want to wake her. Her poor mind had already windexed one travesty against her body, he really didn't want to do it to another.

But, he knew the prophecy. He knew that Castiel was arrogant, so confident that he had managed to find loopholes in contracts written by their father himself. If Gabriel didn't like the stupid little fucker so much, he'd have Castiel killed for his treason.

He loved his brother. His child-like brother so powerful and so innocent in a single stroke. A little like Gabriel, when he first rebelled. Maybe more than a little.

Gabriel couldn't watch it him die. He just couldn't.

_You might as well question why we breathe. If we stop breathing, we'll die. If we stop fighting our enemies, the world will die._

_Well, what of it? It will be out of its misery._

_You know how you sound, Mr. Blaine? Like a man who's trying to convince himself of something he doesn't believe in his heart._

Gabriel looked up at the screen as the TV chimed. Typical. Really fucking typical.

"Gabriel?" asked Paige, sitting up and blinking at him slowly.

Gabriel sighed and lowered himself to his knees beside her bed. He stroked a hand through her hair and kissed her forehead, affection had long since become easy between them, but this was a touch more desperate. Paige sensed it. Gabriel's hand was still over her stomach, his fingers spread against it.

"It's… It's true, isn't it? I'm only a couple of days late, but… I'm not wrong." she asked him, barely daring to speak above a whisper. Her eyes were shining as she watched him.

Gabriel nodded once.

"I'm so happy, Gabriel." She whispered. "I'm so happy."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Isn't it terrible? Is it selfish? The end of the world, everyone is dying or getting hurt or… leaving. And then this. This is the worst possible time" She laughed to herself, soft, weak, hopeful. Beautiful. She was beautiful as she held her hands over his, laced her fingers with his. Over the promise in her body, growing more everyday. "I've never been so happy, Gabriel."

"Oh, gummy bear…" he murmured.

"Can you… can you tell me, is it healthy?" she asked, "I mean, I know it is only a week… but…"

Gabriel let his eyes drift down to where his hand rested against her. He could end the fate, he could save his brother from his own stupid mistakes. With a thought, it could be no more, and things would go back on schedule.

She would conceive some other child by some other man. Some man that she would have to kill because sometimes destiny meant being alone. Sometimes destiny meant solitude and regret and hatred. No matter who the lucky stallion was, fate was fate and his father's little incubation project would make her dark and cruel. Murder did that to a soul. The murder of a lover doubled that. It would never come out any different. It would always end as his father wrote it.

"It is healthy," Gabriel admitted, looking through the fragile flesh that housed an even more fragile life. Delicate, beautiful, crucial to the fate of the world and blissfully unaware. Unaware that its birth, its very life meant the death of an angel. Gabriel stared at it a moment longer. "It is a girl."

"A…girl…" Paige stammered, placing a hand over her mouth. "A…a baby girl?"

"Yes."

"I… I had a boy last time… I just assumed…"

"I hope that I am not the first to tell you that that isn't how biology works."

She leaned up and kissed him on the lips, chaste and exuberant. Gabriel let her. She was smiling so brightly, as brightly as she did before Jo died, before John died, before all the angels decided to make an example of her and kill her first child, the infant prophet.

Just because they could.

She smiled like a woman who had never lost anything and only saw love in her future.

Gabriel stood, shaking with indecision, with doubt. His brother, his powerful, optimistic brother who thought he was so clever, who needed Gabriel to clean up his messes. Or his friend. His forgiving friend who had only ever asked him for love.

There was no right answer. There was no 'good' choice.

So Gabriel made the easiest one. He turned to fly away.

"Are… are you going?" she asked him, hesitantly. "Won't… won't you stay with me?"

Gabriel swallowed hard. Swallowed all the humanity that threatened to make him cry and sob and rage against something because it wasn't fair. He had never wanted to decide these sorts of things. He had never wanted to choose between his brothers. He had never wanted to choose between his friends.

Why was he forced to pick who would live and die? Why was that his duty? Of all the angels in heaven, why did he have to feel like this?

Gabriel smiled and turned back towards Paige. It was always a little hard to stay mad at Paige. She didn't to know how to stay mad at anyone.

She scooted and made room for him on her bed. He climbed in, letting her curl up against him, her arms around his waist and her head in his lap as they sleepily watched Ingrid and Humphrey mourn their dead love.

While love grew inside her, from the ashes of all the ones she lost.


	49. Chapter 49: Raising South Dakota

**Yay! More attention! I LOVE IT SO MUCH. **

**I sort of feel bad for SprakleSparkle because she always leaves me such lovely reviews and I never seem to give her enough gratitude for it. **

**Warnings: Story line gets really stretched out here. Get used to it. Also, sprinklings of Destiel coming up. Dean is here. He's queer (sometimes) get used to it. **

* * *

Dean Winchester leaned over the knobby wooden table in Bobby's kitchen, a half dozen transcripts of biblical lore laid in front of him and a dictionary of ancient greek to help him translate the old script. He clenched his head in his hands and sighed.

Sam was asleep on the floor and Dean was a little relieved to see it. No matter how big his younger brother got, Dean felt a little at peace whenever he saw Sam, his Sammy, slack faced and sleeping. When Sam was younger, it was their father that kept him up, or rather, the lack of their father. Sam would toss and turn, maybe sleep for an hour at most, then Dean would hear Sam turn again, check the clock and lay in bed. Whenever John wasn't around, they were both waiting for It. The Phone Call from Bobby or Caleb or Pastor Jim telling them that they were finally, officially, on their own. John winchester had finally bit the dust.

And it never got easier. They just got used to it.

Then Jess died and it was the nightmares. Three parts watching your girlfriend die, one part guilt and Sam was a wreck. A highly functioning wreck, just like John had been. Just like he was. But Sam tried. He pretended to sleep, lay eerily still in the night, playing off his sweats and his jolts awake as nothing. And Dean could see that Sam needed those lies, needed the guise of normal, so Dean pretended to believe him.

And now, after everything, long after Sam stopped pretending, Dean still breathed a sigh of relief when the same chubby twelve year old, in the hard body and broken mind of a man who was old beyond his years now, sleeping. It was infrequent and inconsistent but something primal in Dean couldn't rest until Sam did.

He quietly closed the book (Bobby was better at translating anyways) and stood, making his way over to the sink to deposit his beer bottles when the curtain rippled in a sudden breeze.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said quietly, turning to face the angel, his friend.

"Dean," the eternal, curt reply, a little rough and graveled, like Cas had been sleeping.

"What's the occasion?" asked Dean, putting the bottles in the sink and leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. Castiel looked around Bobby's living room, Bobby asleep on the twin sized bed and Sam on the floor. He leaned closer to Dean and spoke lower, making his voice rougher in a whisper.

"I came to see if there was any news. You seem preoccupied. Why are you not asleep?"

"I dunno, Cas," Dean bit, "Maybe because the world is ending? Maybe because we all might die and I don't even know why anymore. Aren't you tired of fighting, Cas? Aren't you ever tired?"

"You are not considering surrender again?" Castiel asked, his eyes darting around the room, no doubt looking for another box.

A box with a coat, some keys and a gun. Dean Winchester could be summed up with a coat, some keys and a gun. A whole lifetime and that was all he had to show for it. He could fit inside a fed ex box. His whole legacy could be mailed across the country for less than twenty dollars.

"No, Cas. I'm with you guys to the bitter end. And it does look bitter, don't it?"

"I have spent my whole existence believing that the world would end with my brothers at war. Killing each other, maiming each other, blasting the world to smithereens, all my father's beautiful creations gone to waste in the crossfire." Castiel said thoughtfully. Dean looked at Cas with new interest, the angel rarely talked about his time before. He rarely talked about how he felt and thought before Dean and Sam and his rebellion. "_That _was a bitter end. I have no way of guessing how this new future will end up, but I know how the other one did. I prefer this end."

"Aren't you ever afraid you picked wrong? You fucked up and made things worse for innocent people?"

"Every minute of everyday of my life." Said Castiel and Dean took a ragged inhale. "But I have faith, Dean."

"Faith? Faith in what Castiel? We're so screwed."

"Faith in you." Said Cas, and he reached forward and cupped Dean's shoulder.

Dean had seen Cas mimic his posture, his turn of phrase, his habits. But Cas had never copied a gesture of affection. He let himself be touched and held, but he did not reach out and initiate contact. Dean's breath caught in his throat and his hands shook and Castiel looked at him with those friggen intense eyes. Those eyes that shone with love and affection and… faith. The stupid son of a bitch had faith.

It took Dean two tries to clear his throat before pulling out of Cas' grip and turning away because he couldn't think straight with Cas looking at him like that.

"Faith in me, Cas? Really?"

"I would die for you, Dean. My faith in you is absolute."

"Why, Cas? After everything I've done? The women I've lied to? The money I stole? The souls I tor—"

"Because of the lives you saved, because of the sacrifices you make for your family, because of all the times you've reached out for that… intimate connection to another soul, even when you knew it could never last. I gripped you tight, Dean. I held you tight as I pulled you from perdition and your soul held me. You had faith in me, back when you didn't have a body, you had a soul, the most beautiful one I've ever seen. And it gripped me just as tight as I gripped it."

"Shit, Cas, just, shit." Dean murmured.

"Dean Winchester, I choose this dark unknown path with you, over the highway paved by my brethren."

Dean reached out to Cas, the beautiful, intense, faithful idiot. Cas' shoulder was warm. He was always surprised that cool, stony Cas would be warm to the touch. Every touch he shared with Cas flitted through his head like a rental store VHS tape, in reverse and too fast to think about because Cas moved at two speeds, complete stillness and the speed of light, nothing in between.

They were in the kitchen, the same place that Castiel had confronted him, had threatened him, had healed him, had touched him. Now it was the place that Castiel vowed his unwavering faith and Dean was cupping his shoulder as Castiel, angel of the lord, cupped his. Personal space was abandoned. Did he lean in or did Cas? Castiel breathed, real, hot breath across his face and his touch felt like holding onto a live wire, every nerve bursting with life.

Sam gave a great snore and rolled onto his back. Dean jumped and dropped Castiel's shoulder from his grip. The angel followed his gaze to his brother, majestic in his cock block abilities, even while unconscious. Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and Castiel wordlessly watched them disappear as Dean pulled away. Dean shifted nervously, he opened his mouth to apologize but he wasn't sure what for yet; the sudden space between them or the fact that he reached for Cas in the first place.

The angel nodded, reading his internal conflict.

Then he was gone.

* * *

It was raining when someone knocked on Bobby's door the next morning.

"Who in their goddamn mind is knocking?" grumbled Bobby from his study. The door knocked again. "Don't care if you're sellin' Jesus or house knives, I ain't buyin'."

The door knocked again.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other and then to Bobby who waved his hand, dismissing them to answer it. Sam got to the door first and glanced out the peephole. He hazarded a cautious look at Dean and then swung the door open.

"You've got a lot of nerve," Dean snarled venomously as Paige stood, wet and clutching her bulky coat around her. She shivered but made no move to enter the house without invitation.

"Sam, Dean." She said simply, "I… I need to see Bobby."

"What gives you the right?" Dean snapped.

"I think what Dean is trying to say, Paige," Sam started gently, "Is that it was a real bitch move to disappear after Ellen died and Bobby _needed _you. He has been really torn up about you leaving and you didn't even _call. _Not _once. _So, I think I speak for both of us when I say that you better have a damn good reason for showing up here, unannounced, or you can just go back to wherever you've been for the past six months. He's just getting over losing Ellen, losing Jo and losing you. Don't you come in here just to leave again."

"I—how is he?" Paige asked suddenly.

"He's a mess. He drinks more than ever before and has talked about killing himself because the women he considered family keep dying and disappearing on him. You should have called." Said Dean.

"I need to talk to him." Said Paige, "I need his help."

"Why should we?" asked Dean, blocking the doorway with a scowl. "You better give me a good reason, or, I swear, I'm leaving you here on his porch."

Paige straightened up under his glare and unbuttoned her coat.

"Holy—"Sam stuttered and both brothers stood back and let Paige, sporting a small but distinct swell in her stomach, into the house. After the big reveal, she seemed a little shy about taking her coat off and hanging it by the door. She stood as unsure as the Winchesters.

"Well, who the hell are you two woofin' at? I hope you ordered a pizza beca—" Bobby stopped short as he took in Paige. A wet, pregnant and awkward Paige.

"Hey, Bobby." She said meekly.

"'bout damn time you showed up, you stupid girl." Bobby grumbled, but there was no aggression in it. His voice wobbled with tears.

"You said I could come to you for help… so… here I am."

"Well, get inside, sit down, Sam, Dean, stop catchin' flies would ya and get Paige some tea. Or, see if we have any food. Or—"

"I'm fine, Bobby, I'm fine," she said, turning to the brothers. "Let's… talk… that sounds good."

She followed Bobby's wheel chair down the hall and into the study, situating herself on the couch. Dean disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a glass of water which he handed to Paige, never taking his eyes off her swollen stomach.

"Bobby, I'm so sorry I didn't call." Paige gushed after a few seconds of awkward silence, "I was just…"

"It's pretty clear what you were just busy doing." Bobby said suddenly, then he smiled bitingly, "You want to sit around and talk about the weather or can we get down to business? How far along are you?"

"Almost three months."

"Where's baby daddy?"

"Not, ah, not an issue. Not… around." Said Paige, fidgeting with her fingers, "Just me and baby."

"Do you know who the father is?" asked Dean.

"Yes, of course I do." Said Paige.

All three men waited expectantly but Paige just sat mum with her hand over her belly.

"You said you needed help." Said Sam, "What kind of...help? Paige… do you not want to be… in this condition?"

"No! Oh, god, no, not that… I never meant that" Paige shuddered, her hands now gripping herself protectively, " Yes. Yes, I'm very happy. I need a place to stay. I can't hunt. I don't have the money to settle down. I'm a little nervous. I don't want to be alone and I… missed you."

"We're a little busy, end the apocalypse and all." Said Bobby, but then he was smiling weakly "But I think we might have a spare bedroom upstairs."

Paige's eyes watered, "Thanks, Bobby."

"On one condition." Paige heaved a nervous sigh and braced herself. She gave a solemn nod, "You stay this time. Don't you run off and take that baby away from me again, you hear? You're family now, you and that little bastard, and family fucking sticks it out together, got it? Is that kid going to call me uncle Bobby or something?"

"Do you want her to?"

"It does have a nice ring to—wait, she?"

"That's what Gabriel said." Said Paige with a shrug. She smiled wetly, "A little girl."

"She… That's good. That's real good." Bobby cleared his throat and looked away. "You're hungry and eating for two and I'll see what I can make for you."

"Oh, Bobby, you don't have…" but the older hunter was wheeling his was past them all waving away her protests and wiping his eyes as he went.

"Congratulations, Paige." Said Sam, stooping to give her a brief hug. "I'm happy that you're happy. You deserve this."

"Thanks, Sam." She replied and Sam stood to help Bobby in the kitchen. Dean stood to follow when he suddenly turned to Paige, just the two of them in the small study.

"Why didn't you go to Rufus?"

"What?"

"I mean, Rufus gave you your truck, right? Helped you get some fake Id's and stuff… right?"

"Yeah."

"I just figure that you would go back there. To him. He know you're knocked up?"

"Not yet."

"That is Zapata's kid, isn't it?"

"Stop prying Dean, it's unbecoming."

"You knew that Rufus would run and tell him the second he saw you in the family way and then you'd actually have to deal with this. You're not 'coming home,' you're just running away again."

"You don't know me Dean, so fucking stop it."

"You're right, I don't know you, but I knew my Dad. Better than anyone and this is the exact same kind of crap he'd pull. He trained you well, didn't he? I loved my father, I trusted my father and I went to bat for my father over and over but he was a coward. He could kill a wendigo but he couldn't deal with people, real people like Sam and me. You're just running scared."

"I'm pregnant and I'm alone and the world is ending and _of course _I'm scared, Dean. Jesus, how are you _not? _"

"'Cause I've got people, Paige. And I'm not running away from them again. It is scary as Hell- and believe me, I would know- to put your faith in other people. Again. And again and again. Cause they die or they lie or they fuck up or they are weak but I'm not running anymore Paige. Not from people, not from this crazy, messed up apocalypse. This is my world and it's my brother and my friends and my species and I'm not running away anymore. I have faith in them."

"Dean—"

"You could lose everything. But, if you don't have faith? You don't have anything to gain."

"Is everything alright in here?" asked Sam, sticking his head into the living room. Dean was standing in front of Paige as she was crying and he knew it didn't look good.

"Yeah, yeah. Congrats, Paige." Said Dean before he slid past his brother and past the kitchen where Bobby glared at him as he passed. Dean ignored this and went outside. Sam must have followed him because he heard heavy steps and the door slam behind him as he leaned against the rail of the porch.

"You want to talk about the crying pregnant girl or stand here and seethe for a little while?" His brother asked, leaning his back against the rail and looking over his shoulder to Dean. There wasn't even that much sarcasm in the tone, just Sam trying to gauge him.

Sam always could read him like a book, even when the kid was eleven. Even when Dean came back from his first hunt and needed to sit on the bed and stare at the TV, stiff and silent. Dean had seen his first dead body and Dean had shot his first monster and had washed blood out of his clothes for the first time and he just needed to sit and stare.

Sam didn't touch him, didn't try to comfort him, just brought him a beer and let him sit in silence, let him pretend to be normal. For all their differences, they had that in common. For all the times Dean thought he was looking out for Sam, it turned out that Sam was looking out for him, too.

"You know it's Zapata's right?" asked Dean.

"She came here instead of Rufus'. I figured." Said Sam with a shrug. Dean shook his head. Sam looked back down at him, "Is that what this is about? Paige hooking up with someone so soon after Jo? I know you had a thing for her. It's ok to feel like she's disrespecting Jo's memory."

"Nah, I mean, maybe. I don't know."

"People have their own ways to dealing with this kind of thing. Zapata's a good guy."

"Exactly. What's she afraid of? Zapata practically has had wedding rings picked out for them for years. Then she shows up and she just expects me to not call him?"

"You haven't."

"Well, I am now." Said Dean, pulling out his phone. He stared at it for a long minute before glancing up at Sam who was watching him. Making up his mind, he dialed and turned away from Sam and Sam's puppy eyes.

"Mr. Winchester, as I live and breathe."

"Hey, Zapata, how's it going?"

"Not bad, between hunts. Something promising in Wichita, if you're in the mood. But, you try to stay out of Kansas, don't you?"

"Wasn't calling about a hunt, I'm in South Dakota and I was wondering if I could take you up on that beer you offered me once. Where are you?"

"Just outside of Baton Rouge, so I'm right in your neighborhood. And, let's make it coffee instead of beer. Sound good?"

"Yeah, hey, just out of curiosity, you haven't run into Paige lately, have you?"

"… a couple months back, actually. Have you seen her? Is she… is she alright?"

"Any reason she shouldn't be?" asked Dean and there was a long hesitation on the other line, "You know where Singer Auto is in Sioux Falls?"

"Yeah. I can be there in two days. By tomorrow if I don't sleep."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah, alright." Said Zapata slowly.

Dean hung up the phone and turned to confront Sam, his own personal Jiminy Cricket.

"You know what you're doin' Dean?"

"No. Do you?"

Sam shrugged and gave Dean a sad pat on the back before he turned to leave Dean alone with his thoughts.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to set as Zapata pulled up to the house. Dean intercepted him on the porch, pulling his friend into a fraternal hug before holding him at arm's length to get a better look at him.

"No new, lasting injuries. You must be getting better at hunting."

"Funny. I heard you died again. How many more holes in your heaven punch card before you get that free frozen yogurt?"

"You son of a bitch, it's good to see you." Said Dean with a laugh.

"You're really had me worried with that phone call, there." Said Zapata. He stiffened as they rounded the corner of the house "That Paige's truck?"

Dean kept his grip on Zapata's shoulder but nodded slowly.

"Did she ask to see me?"

"Nah, but she'll be thrilled."

"She has no idea I'm coming, does she?"

"Look, just go, alright? Just go and see her and talk because I don't trust her to make the first move."

"Damn it, Dean, what did she tell you? What's going on?"

"Look, Zapata, she needs you, ok? She won't call you, she won't find you because that's just the person she is. That's her flaw. Well, one of them anyways. So go in there and get your girl. Your broken, sad, flawed girl. She needs you and I'm willing to bet you need her and things are fucked up and nothings perfect and it's too soon and the world's ending. So go in there."

"Dean, what if she doesn't want to see me?"

"Then she's even stupider than I ever thought possible."

"Hey."

"Go get your girl, Zapata." Said Dean and he clapped him on the shoulder. When Zapata stayed nervously still, Dean gave him a gentle push towards the screen door. Zapata took a fortifying breath and stepped across the threshold, followed closely by Dean. The three hunters were in the living room, Paige on the couch, wrapped in a big flannel shirt and tucked under an old quilt against the chill of the room, presumably it was Bobby behind the desk and Sam at the table. They didn't hear them walk in.

"Hey." Said Zapata cautiously. The three snapped to attention at the unfamiliar voice and Sam leveled a loaded look at Dean before standing and greeting Zapata in a hug. Zapata returned it and stepped forward to Bobby, with his hand outstretched, "You must be Bobby. David Zapata."

"Yeah, I know who you are." Said Bobby gruffly, glancing protectively at Paige and nodding. Zapata pulled his hand back as smoothly as he could manage.

"So, you've driven for a really long time and we're all out of beer. C'mon, Dean and I will go for a beer run and let you two… catch up."

The Winchesters walked out the door without much more than a few uncomfortable glances. Bobby huffed and then grumbled something about a part he left in the garage and rolled off, giving Paige one last glance, as though hoping for some sort of cue that he should stay. Paige dismissed him with a small nod and then she and Zapata were alone.

"Did you tell him?"

"I didn't tell any of them. They guessed. And Dean is pretty pushy when he needs to be , apparently."

"You didn't want to see me?"

"You didn't return my calls."

"It was one call. And you hung up after one ring. And you didn't even leave a voicemail."

"What, were you screening me?"

"Of course I was."

Paige smiled softly and shook her head.

"What happened, David? Why'd you panic?"

"I don't even know how to tell you…. So, hold on." Zapata turned and went to his car, opening the glove compartment and pulling out the old cigarette tin he kept in there. When he came back, Paige was where he left her on the couch, though sitting up a little straighter. He took a deep breath before handing her the tin.

She looked apprehensively at him but opened it. She pulled out a red poker chip.

"One month sober." explained Zapata, sitting on the ground in front of the couch with her. Paige turned the tin upside down and shook a half dozen other chips onto her lap. Zapata reached over and took a blue one from her.

"One day sober. I was in Montana, a hunt near Rufus' place and he and I were taking down a spirit and… I fucked up. I had been drinking, and I shouldn't have and I got drunker than I needed to be and Rufus needed four stitches. He took me to a meeting. He made me admit I had a problem."

Paige was quiet and staring at him with such sad eyes that it hurt a little bit. It hurt that she was seeing him, the real, real him. Only Rufus had ever known why Zapata nursed soda water at bars. He took a deep breath and grabbed another chip, green this time.

"Ninety days sober." He picked out a white chip from her and held it up, "Six months sober." He paused as he took another blue chip from her, "One day sober. It was a bad hunt. A –kid—" Zapata swallowed loudly and shook his head, pinching the chip tighter, "Kid died and I went to a bar and I picked a fight. Rufus got me from jail, drove two states out to get me. Took me to another meeting."

"David—" but Zapata shook his head quickly and grabbed the third blue chip from her lap.

"One day sober. This girl… this girl was special, one of a kind, thought I could love her. Thought I could make her _my_ girl. We argued. I wanted her. I woke up the next morning and I didn't remember. I don't remember her saying yes, I don't remember her saying she wanted me. I don't know if I rap—"

"David, stop it. Stop" Paige choked and she was welling up with tears. She reached forwards and grabbed Zapata around the shoulders, holding him to her. Rocking him as he broke down like a fucking baby.

It was just a blur of shitty memories, and blurry faces and vomit, always vomit in the morning. Those nights were lost, those people were lot to him and it was all such a waste, those nights in those bars were all just wastes. And now she was one of them. He had wanted her for so fucking long, when he got sober he thought of her. He wanted to be sober for her. And he wasn't.

One shot, he had one shot to have her and it was a big blank in his head. What a waste.

"It's ok. It's ok, just stop talking like that."

"Do you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive. Nothing at all." She said, pulling him closer. "David?" she asked and he hummed his acknowledgement into her collar bone, "Will you forgive me?"

"For what?"

Paige pulled out of his grip and started unbuttoning her oversize flannel. She got to her stomach and stood as she pulled the shirt off. It was right in his face from where he sat on the floor.

"Is that… is it…it can't…"

"Ours. Yours and mine."

"holy… This is unreal. This can't be happen—"

"It's wonderful, David. For the first time since Jo, I feel so alive. You know the night I conceived? That was the first full nights sleep I got in months. I always had these nightmares about her and her dying and me not being there and—anyways.. I used to have nightmares. I used to be stuck thinking about Jo and what we were and what we could have been and… now this. This is real, and it's mine and it's beautiful. I used to not care about a future without Jo in it and… I care again. I care now. About my—our—daughter."

"Ours…daughter… ours…"

"Yours. Your child. She's healthy."

"Daughter?"

"You're going to be a father. So, no more of these, " she said, holding up the blue chip.

"I'll always be in recovery, Paige, until the day I die I will always be in recovery. That is how addiction works."

"And you'll always be a father. Until the day you die. That is how parenthood works. So be a good one."

"You're going to be a mother. Nervous?" he asked, smiling. He couldn't stop if he tried. Theirs. Daughter. Future. Paige had said all those words to him all at once and it was everything he had ever wanted to hear.

"I never stopped being a mother. I've been a mother everyday since I was nineteen. But I'm excited. A child, David. I have a child again. I've never been so happy."

"The world's ending." Said David, he was still grinning like an idiot.

"The world is ending," Paige asserted, smiling so sweetly, so purely. She was glowing in all the cliché ways that pregnant women glow. She put his hand over the swell in her body. And held it. Theirs.

"We are so fucked." Zapata laughed. And Paige laughed, too.

* * *

**Whew. It's over. Give me attention again.**


	50. Chapter 50: Something Borrowed

**Hey, kids. Heres the chappie. Sorry for crappy edits, I did this right before work, so I was a bit rushed. Enjoy!**

* * *

The kitchen light was on as Sam and Dean pulled up to Bobby's house. Dean stayed outside to fix a rattling he heard in the Impala an hour or so outside Sioux Falls and insisted on fixing it before he turned in. Sam was too tired to argue and he had learned a long time ago that the crankier Dean was, the less he appreciated Sam's help with his baby. Dean's patient Impala Lessons were really best when Dean had a full night's rest and three solid meals under his belt.

The first thing that Sam saw when he walked in was Bobby's eyes from the twin sized bed. Bobby's eyes were open and he flicked his gaze towards the kitchen with wide eyes that clearly said, 'be careful.'

Sam heaved a sigh and crept towards the kitchen. He peered around the wall and saw Paige standing with her back to the doorway and staring intently inside the refrigerator. She was wearing a tank top and sweatpants and her hair was rumpled in the back telling Sam everything he needed to know about her state of mood. He could take cranky Dean with his head buried in the the Impala over moody, pregnant Paige. At least he knew how to deal with Dean.

She heard him walk into the kitchen and flashed a weak smile at him before diving back into the fridge.

"Are you guys hungry?" she asked him and Sam shrugged.

"Are you cooking something?"

"Maybe. Not really. I guess not. We need to go shopping." She pulled from the fridge and held a beer bottle out to him. He took it gladly and she dropped onto the chair across from him. She sat awkwardly, splayed on the chair, her now considerable, belly manipulating her silhouette. "How was the hunt?"

Sam gave a non committal shrug and Paige accepted it with an understanding look before she stood again and walked to the fridge.

"Where's Zapata?" Sam asked and Paige reached into the fridge, retrieving a peach before she sniffed it and put it back.

"He said he had some business to take care of." Said Paige before dropping back down and shifting in her seat, running her hand through her hair. Now at a robust six months pregnant every move of Paige's seemed to be followed by a sigh. She lifted the sweaty hair off her neck and fanned it.

"Still not used to the South Dakota humidity, then?" Sam ventured and Paige's annoyed, tired look became a rueful smile.

"I never will be." She absently rubbed her stomach, "The first time… I went to the beach and I dug a hole in the sand so I could lay on my stomach. And the water was so cool, I could go ankle deep. Of course, it was winter then, so the water was frigid."

Sam looked down at the table as Paige talked about her first child. The first child that had died. Amazingly, Sam forgot more often than not, that Paige even had a kid before she started hunting. It was Bobby who had told him and Dean, and it had come out as a bark to make Dean stop glowering. Not only had she lost her mentor and her boyfriend when their father sold his soul to Azazel, John's death had simply been another name on the long list of people she loved and buried. Sam knew how it felt to lose a parent. Sam knew how it felt to lose a person he loved, a person he woke up to, a person he knew so intimately, in moments of dark shared comfort with touches instead of words. But a kid? Sam didn't know where to start with that, so he patted her hand on the table.

She gave him a strained smile but pulled her hand away.

"Where is the older half?" she asked him and Sam grinned.

"Dean is fixing the Impala. He's a bit grouchy after the drive, so go easy on him."

"Are you guys hungry? I don't mind whipping something up. We do have food, its just that all of it just makes me nauseous."

"Nah, we'll be fine."

Paige took a quiet, heavy moment to stand from the kitchen chair before heading out to the hallway. "I'm going to bed, then." She mumbled, starting up the stairs. "Goodnight, Bobby," she said as she passed, not buying his sleeping act.

* * *

Paige let out a frustrated grumble as she tried to get comfortable again. Lately the baby inside her provided comfort. It anchored her to the earth. _She _anchored her to the earth and whenever Paige felt lost or lonely or scared she rubbed her stomach, her child, and it wasn't so bad. It was peaceful. It was a small little life telling her that it would be ok. She needed to be ok because this kid was about to be born into a clusterfuck of chaos and she didn't need a mother that was off her rocker to add to the list. It shouldn't have given Paige comfort, but it did.

Then, of course, when Paige wasn't feeling content and peaceful she was just plain uncomfortable. Sleeping was one of the many, many things she just couldn't do like she used to with her little passenger on board. She never realized how often she slept on her stomach until she was pregnant and that option was completely wiped off the table. Paige rolled over again and kicked uselessly at the blankets already at the foot of the bed, as though to shame them for being there.

A full night's sleep was a long forgotten dream, Paige was able to take naps throughout the day, when she was so exhausted that she could fall asleep standing up. Deciding that maybe she was hungry after all, Paige got to her feet and clambered downstairs on the off chance that suddenly the fridge was filled with food that didn't sound repulsive. Tiptoeing around the den of sleeping men in Bobby's living room, Paige made it to the fridge without incident. She opened it and enjoyed the blast of cool air while looking hopelessly at the contents.

"What are you doing up?"

Paige jumped because she didn't know that Dean was awake. He stood in the kitchen doorway and watched her with his arms crossed, the same way that Sam had looked a few hours before.

"Could ask you the same." She said, pulling a beer for him, like she had Sam. He took it but didn't open it, clicking his ring restlessly against the cap. "I couldn't sleep. Couldn't get comfortable." She gestured to her stomach.

"Ah." Said Dean awkwardly and that was surprisingly satisfying. Paige laughed and Dean smiled sheepishly. "Nothing good?" he asked at the fridge and Paige shook her head and shrugged.

"Honestly, there are no good choices in here."

"You know, there is this place by the interstate, open 24 hours, best burritos in South Dakota."

"I don't know if that's saying much."

"C'mon." said Dean and he reached behind him and grabbed the keys to the Impala.

"You want me to come with?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't that like a twenty minute drive?"

"Probably."

"Then twenty minutes back?"

"That is generally how that sort of thing happens."

"Are you sure you want…"

"Look. I'm awake and if I keep staring at these four walls I'm going to go crazy. I'm getting El Rio burritos whether you want to go or not. But you're awake too. We could be awake together. If you want." Paige stayed silent so Dean rolled his eyes, "They're _really _good burritos. And you can add all these extras, like guacamole and potatoes and jalepenos and mango, if you want."

"Mango?"

"Yeah. It's probably from frozen but—"

"Let me get some shoes."

* * *

"We're going to have to make it back to Bobby's in ten minutes or my head is going to explode from not devouring this all right now." Paige said, staring into the bag.

"Go nuts."

"I'm allowed to eat in your car?"

"I mean, don't literally go nuts and start throwing it around, but if you're hungry…"

"I always took you as the 'no food or drinks or sneezing or breathing heavy in the car' sort of fellow."

"I am. But I make exceptions."

"And I'm one of them. I'm honored."

Dean gave her a look out of the corner of his eye and then shook his head. Deciding not to say whatever it was that he wanted to. Paige let him.

"So, we can go back to Bobby's… or…"

"I like 'or.'"

"Alright." Said Dean simply and instead of turning left to go down the dirt road to Singer Auto, he turned right. Paige didn't act surprised and didn't comment, but he saw her glance up to watch the dirt driveway of Bobby's disappear through his rearview. He parked at the end of a long, wooden fence, a little sad and neglected as it was overrun with tall grass and some old, rusted out iron litter, skeletons of a farm forgotten and left behind. Dean led the way, kicking a path through tall grass and Paige followed him easily without complaint. They walked in silence for about fifteen minutes before Dean saw the old barn on the horizon. He couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face as he smelled the same scent of wet wood and grass and earth that occupied so many of his happiest memories.

He turned to see Paige watching him, smiling when he shared the nostalgic good feeling with her. He stood for a moment and finally seemed to decide on an appropriate spot, dropping down and patting the ground next to him for Paige to join him.

"You're helping me get up, I hope you know."

"Fair enough," said Dean, unwrapping a burrito and sniffing it before deciding it was Paige's and handing it over. Paige took a bite and laughed an odd little chuckle before nodding.

"This is the first delicious thing I've eaten in weeks."

"So bland. I thought pregger chicks craved anchovies and pickles in their ice cream or some crazy shit like that."

"I think you're getting your pregnancy information from sitcoms."

"I learned everything I need to know from I Love Lucy, thank you very much."

Paige laughed and Dean took a bite of his own burrito as she enjoyed her moment. "Thanks, Dean."

"It's just a burrito."

"No, just, thanks. For… everything. You called David. You got me out of that house for a few beautiful minutes. Just… thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"But, really." Paige's eyes watered before she took another bite. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve before she swallowed and pressed on, "If you hadn't called him, I wouldn't have… and I know you don't like me, but thank—"

"No. Seriously. Don't mention it." Dean was looking at the ground between his boots as he said it. He folded the foil back over his burrito and put it back in the bag, suddenly not hungry anymore. He sat in silence for a few minutes and Paige followed suit, the only sound coming from her foil.

"I used to take Sammy here." He said suddenly. He felt Paige's eyes on him but he looked out to the trees. He pointed to a particular cluster near a rusted out tractor. "Those trees are the best for climbing. The branches were low enough that Sam could climb them without needing too much help. As long as he watched me go up, he could follow. Didn't want me to tell him where to step, just wanted to watch and mimic. Must have made him feel like he did it himself, I guess."

Paige stayed quiet and Dean was grateful. He looked up at the stars in the sky and he remembered how it used to make him feel small and insignificant. Like he didn't matter. Like nothing he did mattered. When he was a kid it made him feel sort of sad. He would live and love and fight and die and it didn't even matter because all of those stars were suns with planets with people or aliens or whatever. He didn't really matter. He was just one little ant on a kibble of cat food.

Now missed feeling of being a speck of nothing. It was so much easier back then, when he simply didn't matter. When he was looking up at the stars and feeling like no one saw him, it turned out that angels were staring right back. Scheming, plotting, poisoning. He was a mouse and the stars were just lights in a laboratory.

"I was never allowed to climb trees." Said Paige and Dean felt bad for a moment because he forgot she was there. "When I was, four, I guess, I cut all my hair off. I don't remember why. Probably to prove a point to someone. Maybe an imaginary friend told me to do it. Anyways, when I did that my mother insisted that I wear dresses because she said I looked like a boy. She hated that. She was so embarrassed to be seen with me until it grew out again. You know, I wasn't allowed to use scissors again until I was thirteen? And even then she just sat there, watching me like a prison warden watching an inmate in the kitchen." Paige laughed but it sounded hollow, "Isn't that funny?"

"Not really." Said Dean and he looked up at her and he didn't feel so bad that he had forgotten her because she seemed to be forgetting him.

"I guess not. My dad said she used to be funny. She must have been, because he was always making jokes and she did marry him after all. Maybe it was me."

"It probably wasn't you." Said Dean, "I've played that game before. Trust me, it never leads anywhere good. 'Is he that way because of me?' 'Does he yell because of me?' 'Does he leave because of me?' was the soundtrack of my mind until I was at least twenty five."

"No." said Paige suddenly and Dean rolled over because she sounded so serious. He raised his eyebrows, "No. No, no, you were the only thing he had. You were the only thing that kept him sane. You were the only thing he loved."

"Besides my mom. And you, apparently."

"Dean—"

"You don't need to apologize."

"I wasn't going to." She said and Dean raised his eyebrows at her again, "I was going to say that everything he did, he did for you. It was all for you and I wasn't going to apologize for loving him because it's over now, but I did and I'm not ashamed of the people I loved."

Dean cleared his throat and handed the bag with what was left of his burrito back over to Paige. "Take it. It's just beans and rice. No meat. Scouts honor."

"You weren't a scout."

"Fine, hunter's honor."

"Oh, alright then." Said Paige and she grinned as she took the bag, "Are you sure? I mean…"

"Normally I would only talk about this over drinks but I don't want to be blamed if that kid comes out all deformed."

"Is it about…Lisa? Sorry, I overheard Sam and Bobby—"

"No. No, it isn't about Lisa."said Dean with a huge sigh. "Paige… shit, I wish I had some whiskey I could shoot right now, fuck it… how did you know?"

"That I was pregnant? Gabriel."

"Ok, not talking about that deush, I meant… with… Jo. How did you know?"

"Oh. _Oh_"

"How did you know that you were gay? I mean, when did it cross that line? From, like, weird thoughts and the occasional dream to… you know, thinking about touching someone and then having them right in front of you, wanting to touch them, wanting to kiss—"

"I'm not _gay_. Jo was Jo and I loved _a _woman, not women, plural. Is that how it is with you and…?"

"Cas. Cas, it's Cas and it has been for a while and I'm so fucking messed up."

"Does he feel the same way about you?"

"How would I know?"

"I guess you wouldn't, and that's the scary part." Said Paige, "But my only regret was that I waited so long with her. Our first night together was our last."

"Wait, so… shit. That night at Bobby's?"

Paige nodded sadly and Dean resisted the urge to reach out and hug her, pat her, touch her so that she knew that she wasn't as alone as she felt because Dean had been there. But he didn't. With Paige he knew he would have to earn the right and he hadn't, yet.

"So, don't wait. Go for it. Last night of your life. I suppose that doesn't mean much to a Winchester, though."

"I'm just… terrified." He said and Paige laughed.

"You, Dean Winchester, womanizer extraordinaire, multiple survivor of death, member of team free will; telling archangels and devils to stick it where the sun don't shine and you're afraid of telling a boy how you feel?"

Dean gave a rueful smile, "It's not a boy, it's an angel and it isn't just any angel it's… Cas." He said, and Paige's smile dripped off her face. She nodded solmnley.

"It was Jo. She was my everything, but I just knew. I knew that I couldn't not… I don't know, be as close and as vulnerable and as needy and as hot and raw as I could be with another person. I just needed that and Jo was my everything. It made sense and I loved her."

"But… " started Dean before shaking his head, "What if it doesn't work out? What if he doesn't want sex with me or sex in general?"

"I don't know, then it's weird for a few days and you get over it?"

"I'm afraid… so, there's a strong possibility I'll die, right? Well… what if he says 'no' and then I die or he dies and that's all there is? I mean… maybe it'd be better if I died thinking he _might _want me than die knowing that he definitely doesn't."

"Oh, Dean."

"I mean, I look at my life… and I've never loved anyone besides my family. Been close once or twice, but… I mean, you've loved at least twice and—"

"Now they're both dead."

"Shit. Sorry, I didn't mean for it to be like that."

"I don't regret any of it. I loved them. That's the best gift you can give anyone. Never be ashamed to love someone." She said and Dean cleared his throat. She took his unspoken cue and mercifully changed the subject. "Speaking of love, that burrito is the current love of my life."

"Told you they were good."

"Not as good as this burrito I had in Pasadena. I have no idea what was in it but it was life altering. "

"Nah, best burrito is _definitely_ in Sedona."

Dean asserted and Paige listened to him talk about the best burrito he'd ever had and she told him about the best tacos and it went like that until Dean saw her eyes begin to droop.

"C'mon, you're grouchy enough as it is when you sleep in a bed, I'm not dealing with you being crabby tomorrow." Said Dean, fisting the garbage in one hand and hauling Paige up with the other. She stumbled when she got to her feet but staggered in the general direction of his car without assistance.

"'m not crabby."

"It's ok, you're allowed to be. You're bitching for two, now. That's how that works, right?"

"You're a dick." Said Paige but she smiled as she slid into the car seat.

* * *

The sun was rising as Dean pulled into Bobby's yard and he kicked himself for staying out so late. He parked his car next to a familiar truck and smiled as he thought about the surprise for Paige that he knew Zapata had planned.

"Hey, Lady Madonna" he said, prodding her awake, "Paige, c'mon, get up. Zapata's here."

"David?" she asked, waking up at the sound of his name.

"Yeah, inside. Need help out of the car?"

"No." she said, but took a long second to gain some velocity before she stood.

Zapata met them at the front door, kissing Paige on the cheek and clapping Dean on the shoulder.

"Should I be jealous?" he joked as the three made their way into Bobby's living room.

"Probably, not of me. There may or may not be a burrito you should watch out for."

"Nice. El Rio off the highway?"

"The one and only."

"Hey, David, I didn't know you were coming," Paige said, "Are you alright?"

Zapata looked over Paige's head to grin at Dean before nodding and taking both of Paige's hands in his. Paige glanced between the hunters, frowning slightly.

"Never better. Hey, why don't you go pack a bag, just for a couple of days? I want to show you something."

"What kind of something?"

"El tipo de secreto. Vas empacer su maleta? Por favor. Es importante a me."

"No me gusta supresas."

"Por favor? Para mi?"

Paige took a heavy sigh and looked between Dean and Zapata again before walking up the stairs. When they heard the door click shut, Dean stood and walked over to Zapata.

"Did you get it?" he asked, peering over Zapata's shoulder. Zapata glanced at the stairs again before pulling something small out of his pocket. Sam got up from where he was sitting by the bookshelves and joined them, all crowding around to look at it.

Zapata stepped back and glanced over at Bobby who simply gave him a curt nod. Zapata returned it and shoved the box back into his pocket as he heard Paige's footsteps on the landing above them.

* * *

"Are you lost?" she asked. It was a fair question, Zapata had slowed to almost a crawl as he stared down the long, overgrown driveways. It had taken the day, but they were just an hour outside of Billings, Montana and Zapata was squinting down the dark untamed roads, clearly looking for something.

"Of course not. Here we are. Right here." He said, a little relieved sounding. He turned down the driveway and was rewarded by landing into a massive pothole in the road, rocking the car violently.

There were more than a couple more potholes the Zapata had moderately better at avoiding. After about five minutes, they pulled up to an old farmhouse, the paint was peeling and the wood was splintering. Zapata turned to her and raised his eyebrows excitedly before stepping out of the truck. Paige followed cautiously.

He jogged up to the step of the house, gingerly putting his weight on the first creaky wooden step to make sure it would hold his weight. It did.

"Ok." He said, turning to Paige and holding his arms out presenting the house, "Don't get distracted by this. This is just temporary. Just until I build the real house."

"Build? Like yourself?" Paige laughed, "You don't know how to build a house."

"No… but… I'll figure it out. I figure we can stay in here until I finish it." Paige's stomach started to churn in knots. Zapata was smiling expectantly at her and, seeing her pained expression, he jumped off the steps and jogged over to a large flat clearing, "this is where I'll put it. See? So, like, I'll put the kitchen here, so we can see the mountain from the window. And I'll put a panic room like Bobby's in the basement. And, I thought I'd paint it white. And put those big old timey columns as the support beams for the porch. I feel like you'd want a big porch." Zapata's face fell as he watched Paige cross her arms over her chest and look around the flat land. "I mean, I'm… open to suggestions. I made a deal with Rufus to buy the land off of him in chunks. We can go someplace—"

"David…" said Paige shaking her head.

"I just… want someplace with you. I know you said the ocean, but… that kind of land is really expensive and Bobby and Rufus are relatively close here. It seemed to make sense…" He started walking towards her. She saw him reach into his pocket and she took a shuddering breath.

"David…" she warned again.

Nervously, he opened the box and presented the small ring to her. He hesitated.

"Should I get on one knee? I didn't know, I thought it might embarrass you." He gave a dry, unsure chuckle. He watched her face for a few more minutes before he clicked the box shut and put it back into his pocket. He looked at the ground for a couple of minutes before shoving his hands into his pockets and kicking at the tall grass.

"David," she said again, reaching out to him, but he pulled easily out of her grip.

"You, ah, don't need to do that." He said. He turned away from her and faced the old farm house as he spoke again, "Can I ask why?"

"It just seems really soon… and…"

"You're having my kid, Paige. Most people look at that and say that it's a little late." He turned back to her and Paige saw that the rims of his eyes were pink. She looked back down at the ground. "You said, 'ours' Paige. You said, 'you and me' and I assumed."

"You'll always be a part of our daughter's life. I want you to be a part of her life."

"Oh, oh, shit, you meant like _that _like I'll see her every other weekend or some shit. Oh, fuck. Oh, god, I'm so stupid."

"David, you aren't—" she reached out to him but he took a step back, smiling a pained smile and fighting the tears in his eyes as he stepped away.

"Just, stop trying, Paige. I swear to god." He laughed and it sounded so thin and fake that it felt a little like a slap across her face. "I mean, it's us, right? Of course it could never work out all easy and convenient like. There needs to be _something_."

"I don't love you. That's the something. I like you. A whole lot. You're my favorite person. You're my _favorite_. But it isn't love. Not yet. Give it time."

"Then marry me and we'll give it time together. Come live with me here, sleep in my bed and we can tuck our daughter in to bed together. We can build something together. Be my wife. You'll love me in time."

"That's backwards." She said, shaking her head, "Give me time, let me figure out who I am when I'm not mourning and I'm not pregnant. I'm still… I still dream about Jo, sometimes. Sometimes I get stuck in that loop and I can't be your wife while I'm doing that. What if I'm faulty? What if you make me your only and I never get over her?"

"Let me worry about that."

"David, I don't want you to be my hero. I want you to be my friend. I want you to be my partner. I don't want to be just another person you need to save. Let me get sorted out first. Then we'll see."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"No. You don't want me to save you? That's just plain selfish, Paige."

"You've lost your marbles."

"Maybe we don't know each other as well as we should. Maybe we don't love each other enough to be right. Yet. But we're compatible as fuck. And you make me laugh. And you surprise me every time you open your mouth. Sometimes," he smiled and gestured between them, "those surprises suck, but damn it, I like you. You're my favorite person. The world is ending and I want to have a woman in my bed, wearing my ring when it does. I want to tuck our kid in together and I want to have whatever, weird, granola vegan crap you eat for breakfast together and I want you to be mine. I don't want anyone else."

"I don't want anyone else either." Said Paige and she was smiling softly. A little tear fell down her cheek and Zapata stepped forward. "I don't think I'll ever want anyone else besides you."

"Marry me."

"Can't we have all those things without some piece of paper?"

"No. Marry me."

"We can live together. We can sleep together. We can paint her room together and shop together and fall in love together but we don't need a marriage." Zapata shook his head.

"Marry me." He said. Somehow they had gravitated together, forehead to forehead and his fingers were linked with hers. "Make it official. Wear my ring. Take my name. Take my things, take me, marry me."

"David…"

"Shh… marry me. Just marry me, Paige, I was raised catholic, it matters, ok? It matters to me. Marry me. Just marry me."

His hands skimmed down, over her stomach, rubbing it, touching their child. A house, a home, a husband and ring. Paige had never thought it would come to this. It was scarier than the apocalypse.

"Ok. Ok, I'll marry you."


	51. Chapter 51: Something New

Jakab's eyes snapped open from where he lay in the empty bed as he heard a plate in the kitchen crash. He heard footsteps, heavy and unsteady and he stepped out of the bed, walking cautiously towards the source of the noise.

It was two sets of footsteps. Two pairs of feet staggering around his kitchen. He heard another plate crash before a screech, long and low, like metal against glass then he heard a higher pitch. It grew shrill until Jakab's ears throbbed and then there was a bright flash of light.

The paintings on the walls fell. The glass on the window cracked. Jakab was suddenly positive that his head was imploding because the sound wasn't anything made by man or animal, it was something cruel and piercing.

"Jakab, c'mon." said Gabriel, suddenly appearing in the hallway, winded and using his sleeve to blot the blood away from his eye as it dripped down from his forehead. Jakab couldn't really even hear him, just read his lips. Gabriel looked annoyed at his slow reaction, tense and stone faced.

"What…where…what?"

"Get up."

"Tell me what is going on, Gabriel, I deserve to know."

"We are leaving, now. It isn't safe here anymore."

"Again? Again we leave?" Jakab had fallen to the floor as his ears shriveled and screamed in protest to the screech. Gabriel held his hand out expectantly, but Jakab slapped it away. Gabriel let him. Gabriel was always good about letting Jakab push him away. "Tell me why. Tell me what that was."

"Either get up and take my hand or I will take you by force. I won't think twice and I won't regret it."

Jakab gave Gabriel another long glare before Jakab scrambled up and stumbled past Gabriel into the kitchen. He stopped short as he saw it; a slender, middle eastern man in a fine blue suit, laying peacefully out against the floor like he was sleeping. Except there was blood pooling from his temple and dripping from his lip and spread out around him, curling up the walls of the small kitchen, were wings burned into the tile. The room smelled like fire and flesh and feathers and Jakab's throat filled with bile. He turned to leave but Gabriel grabbed him by the upper arm, turning him to face the dead angel.

"That is my brother and I _loved_ him. There will never be another like him. I killed him."

Jakab averted his eyes but Gabriel kept his grip painfully strong. Jakab wasn't going to complain. He didn't want to give Gabriel the satisfaction.

And suddenly they were in a new home, still as dark as the one before it, but clean and pristine, lacking the smelled of charred angel and the burns of the dead along the walls. Gabriel pushed Jakab when they landed, and Jakab toppled, finally crashing into a book case. Books tumbled down on his head and he saw regret flash through Gabriel's features. Gabriel hadn't meant to push him that hard. But would the archangel apologize? Of course not.

Jakab picked up a glossy new edition of a book that had been in his old library, his old home, and that was what made Jakab snap. He launched the book across the room at Gabriel who didn't bother to move out of the way or avert it. The book collided against his shoulder before landing with a defeated thump on the floor. There was a long moment where Jakab seethed at Gabriel and Gabriel just stared at the book on the floor with a hard expression. Then Gabriel snapped his eyes back up to Jakab and Jakab's blood froze. He stayed glaring. He didn't want to give Gabriel the satisfaction of seeing him tremble.

"Take me _home._" Jakab demanded and that was the thing that pushed Gabriel over that edge. He knew how to push Gabriel from playful to mocking. Other people might not notice the distinction but Jakab had dedicated his life to the angel and the angel had moods. He was always careful, even when they were fighting, to stop pushing when Gabriel got quiet. A silent Gabriel was a dangerous Gabriel. But Jakab was tired of being the one who was scared. "I am sick of this. I am sick of _you_. Take me home, take me _home._"

Jakab only had time to blink before Gabriel was right in front of him, holding him by the throat, slamming him against the bookshelf. More books rained down on their heads but Gabriel didn't even blink as the volumes slammed into him. His lips were pulled thin and he bared his teeth.

"Do you know what I do for you? You ungrateful little…"

"You are a monster. You're a hideous monster and I'd rather you kill me than continue being your prisoner. You murderer."

"I guess it takes one to know one."

Jakab took a shuddering sob as he started scratching uselessly at Gabriel's grip. He didn't want to fight anymore. He gave up. Gabriel won. Gabriel always won. The glassy eyes of a thousand victims stared up at him and he didn't care about Gabriel or the books or anything anymore. He needed to escape those eyes. He needed to wash the blood off of him. He was so dirty with it.

Gabriel loosened his grip and Jakab fell away from him walking aimlessly around the new apartment, filled with a thousand familiar things that were just a shade short of right. They were the same couches and the same rugs and the same foods in the cupboards but they were glossy and new. They lacked the years that Gabriel and Jakab had put into them. The bed was missing the scratches on the wooden headboard where Jakab sometimes cuffed Gabriel as they fucked. The kitchen lacked the residue of olive oil around the burners where Jakab cooked Gabriel's favorite things. It didn't smell like them. Goliath wasn't there.

Even Jakab's angel was different. His eyes didn't glow with unspoken amusement. Gabriel didn't make Jakab feel clean and forgiven anymore. It looked so much the same, but nothing was.

Jakab found the bedroom easy enough and cast himself against the mattress, clutching at the soft white blankets and taking comfort in the fact that he didn't leave trails of blood and grime and human waste along the covers. It was all in his head. He wished that was more comforting than it was.

The door creaked open and Jakab heard soft footsteps against the new floor. He sighed and tensed up, not sure if he could handle this right now. The hand against his back was soft, small, tender. It started making a small 'v' shape between his should blades. When it began to move up his neck to tuck his hair behind his ear, Jakab rolled over and politely pushed the hand away.

The woman was new, he supposed. It had been a while since Gabriel had done this for him. Her hair was longer, softer and she was a little rounder than she was last time. Her dark eyes peered at him questioningly before she bent down and kissed him tenderly, her dark curtain of hair obscuring his view of the door, but not before he saw Gabriel, leaning against the frame, watching sadly.

"Do you want him to go?" the girl asked softly, in English. Whispering in his ear, as if Gabriel couldn't hear. As if she were real and it was just Jakab and his soft young woman and Gabriel could so easily be dismissed. As if he was the man and he was calling the shots. The fantasy never really worked, but tonight especially it was sure to make something in Jakab crack in a way that could never be repaired.

"I vant you to go." He replied to her and she looked a little hurt before she climbed off of him and looked to Gabriel, standing oddly still, waiting. Jakab's eyes filled as he raised his hand to the shrouded angel in the doorway. Gabriel didn't hesitate to come to him if a bit cautiously. Jakab spread his legs and Gabriel took the cue to climb into their bed, this new bed that still lacked the smell of their sex and lube. It was still a different bed. It might as well have been a different angel.

Gabriel ran a questioning hand over Jakab's pants, he was still soft and he wasn't twenty five anymore, but that didn't mean he didn't need it. Gabriel started to unzip the pants and he slid them off Jakab and onto the floor while Jakab removed his own shirt. Almost reverently, Gabriel pulled Jakab's boxer briefs off and looked down at him. Out of everything in the apartment, Jakab was the only one who changed; he grew older. He knew that his testicles had begun to sag and his once hard stomach had turned into a lightly rounded belly and Gabriel would be thirty five forever and ever. Gabriel didn't wait for Jakab's instruction before he nuzzled his face into his pelvis, smelling him and tasting him, savoring his smell like an animal before mating. The tongue darted out and began to swirl around his balls and the base of his dick, Gabriel knew what Jakab liked and he preformed the routine like it was something new and exciting. As if after fifteen years, Jakab was still new and exciting.

Jakab's hand clutched at the longer strands of Gabriel's hair as he guided the angel downwards, holding a fistful of the new blanket and canting his hips upwards. Gabriel pulled away and looked over Jakab's body to his face. Jakab smiled sadly.

"I am yours." He said and Gabriel looked away at the statement's beautiful and sad honesty. Jakab was Gabriel's. Jakab would only be Gabriel's. That was his life. "I want to be yours. Make it so."

Gabriel nodded and then put his mouth back to work against Jakab's body, pulling Jakab's legs over his shoulders to get better access as he lapped at the hole. He traced the rim, slathering it in saliva, moistening the way for a well-practiced finger. Jakab groaned and his cock grew firm in Gabriel's fist. Gabriel slid a second finger in and Jakab knew he wasn't as tight as he once was either.

The first time that Gabriel had ever entered him, he moaned that he could come just from feeling Jakab's tight ass on his finger. A part of him was proud; it was a part of his body that proved Gabriel had been there. Only Gabriel had been there. Fifteen years of love had changed his body and Jakab was proud that it was something private and intimate between them. But another part of him was sad that he couldn't give Gabriel that anymore. Gabriel was still as tight as the day that Jakab first fucked him, a thousand years ago on the sheets of a hotel in Istanbul.

"I am ready, Gabriel. Gabriel, _Gabriel_." Jakab sighed and then his lover was filling him up and the new bed and the new apartment and the new things suddenly felt like home. This between them had never changed.

Gabriel rested his hands over Jakab's head as Jakab locked his heels around Gabriel's chest. Gabriel was looking down at Jakab and Jakab was looking up at Gabriel and it was just them. It was just the two of them like it had been for a thousand stolen moments of their lives. Well, them and…

"Get rid of her." Jakab said and Gabriel broke their gaze and glanced over to where the girl stood watching with glazed over interest at the two of them rocking together on their bed. Gabriel looked mildly surprised to see her still there, like he had forgotten. Jakab let out a bark of laughter and Gabriel smiled ruefully before the girl was gone and it was just the two of them again, with Gabriel smiling like he used to.

Jakab came with a shudder when Gabriel stroked his cock in time with his thrusts. Gabriel came soon after and Jakab almost screamed with the ecstasy of Gabriel's angel essence seeping out of him, baptizing their new bed.

"I love you so much." Gabriel murmured against Jakab's stomach, where his head was rested, after they fell together "I never wanted you to have to live like this."

"I am yours, Gabriel." Jakab said again and he felt Gabriel's lips kiss his skin, "I would die for you. I love you. I am yours." Gabriel held Jakab a little tighter to him and didn't say another word. "I am going to die with you, aren't I? This is worse, isn't it? This is worse than it has ever been before. You might die and I will die alongside you."

Jakab saw Gabriel's chest heave and he had his answer.

He smiled. Gabriel had many lovers, thousands over his life, but Jakab would be the one he died with. Jakab would be the last one.

It should not have made him as happy as it did.

* * *

"Dean, I swear to God, I will hurt you," snarled Sam as he held up the wooden frame to the side of the house. Dean glanced up to his brother, shaking a little under the weight of the wooden beam and he looked back down at the blueprint.

"Well, I it looks right on here, but it doesn't look right up there. Is that side of the frame _shorter _than this one?"

"Fuck, Dean, I'm putting this down."

"Wait, just give me a second. Can I have a _second_?"

"No!"

"Damn it, Sammy, now we have to put it up again."

"_You _put it up again, I'll be the guy with the blueprints."

Paige watched the brothers squabble over the new house with amusement, a little surprised that it was coming along so quickly. She absently put her hand against her stomach; everything was coming along quickly.

"Fucking, fuck." Sam grumbled as he stepped into the old farmhouse that they were staying in as the new house was built. Sam looked especially tall in the small hallway with the low glanced up and saw Paige in the kitchen, "Oh, sorry." He mumbled. Paige smiled and shrugged. Paige noted the way he was holding his hand tenderly.

"Get cut?" she asked nodding to his hands.

"Nah, just splinters."

Paige pointed him to the kitchen table and disappeared just to return with a first aid kit. Sam took it with a grateful smile and scooted a little closer to the window so he see what he was doing. 'Splinters' might have been an understatement. He had inch long pieces of wood wedged into his palms.

"May I?" asked Paige as she watched him struggle for a moment. Sam hesitated but held his hand out to her. She worked quickly and Sam looked out the window to where Dean was measuring the frames. Zapata stood next to him and they were talking in the bright Montana sky.

"Dean's pretty good at this kind of stuff." Said Sam suddenly and Paige glanced up at him and followed his gaze out the window. She gave a 'mmm' sound of agreement as she tilted his hand, looking for any she might have missed. Sam continued, "I mean, you know, growing up the way we did… I'm just surprised. We always lived places that could be rented by the day. Never did home improvement or anything. I mean, the impala thing makes sense; dad taught him that, but like sandpapering and stuff? Zapata is good at that kind of thing too. Did he do anything like this before he was a cop? Like in high school or something?"

"I'm not really sure." Said Paige flatly, "Other hand?"

Sam put his other hand in hers as she continued to work. Paige could feel him watching her so she let out a slow breath.

"You've never dated a hunter, have you?" she asked and Sam shook his head 'no.' Paige kept her eyes religiously on her task as she worked, "Well, it's sort of a common courtesy thing. You don't ask that kind of stuff. The only time John ever spoke in the past tense was when he talked about gnaking a monster. I never asked him about your mother, he never asked me about my family. I know that David is not like us, he didn't lose anyone to a ghost or demon, but I know that he walked away from his mother and his sister when he started living like us. It is hard for him to think about what he gave up, so we don't. We talk about our future because our past is too sordid to work through."

Sam stayed silent and Paige worked quietly. Suddenly she froze and Sam turned his attention from the window to her again. She put the tweezers on the counter and started off into space. Her hand over her stomach.

"Are you ok?" he asked her. When she just looked down to her pregnant stomach, Sam was suddenly ramped up from curious to concerned. He rapped loudly on the kitchen window and saw Dean and Zapata look their way before he turned to guide Paige to one of the chairs. Paige intercepted the hand that was going to land on her arm and shoved it against her stomach. Sam's breath caught.

"She's kicking." Said Paige, watching Sam's face, "She's kicking, she's never done that before. She's kick…"

Sam didn't have time to do more than look surprised and exhilarated when Zapata and Dean crashed through the door. Paige held her hand out to Zapata and he raced over to her. Like she had with Sam, she wordlessly held his hand to her belly and waited for Zapata to feel it himself.

"Holy shit." Was all he managed to get out before he leaned forward and kissed her. "Holy shit, that's our baby." He said, leaning down and kissing her stomach.


	52. Chapter 52: Something Blue

**Yay! New chappie! **

* * *

Sam Winchester cursed quietly to himself as the small prick of a screw cut into his knee. He was kneeling on the new, sturdy stairs of Paige and Zapata's porch, hunting for any leftover bits and pieces of metal in the glossy, painted black wood. The only one he seemed to be able to find was caught in the denim of his jeans.

He stood, wiping his hands on his pants and looking around for anything else he might have missed. It had been three weeks and the house was actually, finally starting to resemble a house. The sidling was painted a cool, metallic grey while the wood floored porch and shutters were a sleek black. A clean white trim traced the windows and doorframes and Sam appreciated the understated colors, mostly because he and Zapata (mostly him) picked them out.

The inside of the house was still barren and uninhabitable. Wiring, recently finished by Bobby's old friend, still stuck out of insulation pads and wooden beams at irregular intervals. The floor was covered in plastic to protect the wood as Sam and, seemingly a dozen of Bobby and Rufus' friends traipsed through the house, working for an afternoon or a day before heading back out to the hunt.

Zapata welcomed the strangers and friends alike into his home, feeding them and knowing them and it was very obvious as to why people generally liked Zapata. He remembered their names and their friends' names and their mentors' names. He laughed easily and often and that was rare amongst their kind. Even Dean would spit out jokes and smiles, but only as a big, sloppy band aid over some seriously dark shit. Zapata smiled to smile. Zapata laughed because he found the world funny, not because he feared being the butt of its joke.

Paige, however, was more reluctant of newcomers. Her smile a little hard and unsure, her posture always guarded. Some hunters respected her more for it; a hunter should always be on their guard, even amongst their friends. An expectant mother, much more so. The others politely gave her the space she was clearly more comfortable with, but both types quietly remarked to each other and Sam and Dean, when they were around, about what an odd couple the two made.

Even Sam and Dean felt the same, though, watching the couple together did ease some of that. Zapata orbited Paige like a planet orbits the sun, but quietly and with respect to her space as he realized how uncomfortable his constant attention made her. Perhaps that was the biggest difference between them; Paige wilted under scrutiny while Zapata flourished in it.

Sam stood and ran a hand through his hair as Dean rounded the corner.

"You're not changed yet?" Dean asked, looking Sam over. There was a makeshift arch in front of the porch stairs that Sam had just finished wrapping the lights around. It looked small and humble, but pretty in a way. Sam frowned at Dean, who was already in his fed suit, "Sun sets in, like, thirty minutes. How's Paige doing?"

"I don't know, do I?"

"Well, go check on her. I already got Zapata covered. Best man duties: check."

"Rufus is Zapata's best man."

"Ok, well, I'm runner up, at least. Bride is your responsibility."

"Whoa, wait, when did we decide this?"

"I don't know, now, I guess." Said Dean, "And don't tell me all this wedding talk hasn't set your ovaries abuzz."

"Dean—"

"You need to sack up and go be a fucking bridesmaid, Sam." Dean interrupted, then, in a softer tone, "C'mon, Paige… is Paige. She's earned her magical day, ok? Let's just go. I… can't. Ok? I just can't. You can't be the maid of honor when you've had your dick inside the bride."

"Classy time to bring that up, Dean."

"You know what I mean. She probably needs a friends right now and… "

"Yeah, yeah, I got it Dean, I'm going."

* * *

Paige was inside the small old farm house, sitting on a second hand chair in front of a dirty mirror that they had found in the old place. The door was cracked open and Sam watched Paige look blankly at her reflection before he knocked quietly on the doorframe. Paige was startled out of her reverie.

"You're not dressed yet?" she asked as she looked over her shoulder to him.

"It only takes five minutes." Sam said, walking slowly towards her, "I just wanted to be sure you were ok."

Paige stood to give Sam the full effect. The wedding dress had also been found at a second hand store two days before. It wasn't an ugly dress, it was just… not something he imagined Paige ever wearing. There was an intricate lace and rhinestone design on the big, fluffy train and the bodice was lined with more rhinestone glitter. It was the only one that would fit Paige at her stage in the pregnancy.

Rufus offered to buy a new dress, weeks ago, before Paige even came back with her engagement ring. But, Paige insisted that a wedding dress that less than ten people would ever see was a waste of money and time and just plain energy. Sam agreed, at the time, but looking at Paige in her second hand dress in front of her second hand mirror felt like something was squeezing Sam's heart and it hurt.

"You look lovely."

"I look pregnant." She said. Sam swallowed hard. The longer Sam was with Paige, the more she tended to voice uncomfortable truths that Sam didn't know how to respond to. Sam could never be certain if she was trying to scold him or herself when she got like this.

"You are pregnant. And you're happy you're pregnant. And you're marrying the guy you love." Paige's face fell when Sam said marriage and he realized that the sadness he perceived when he walked in might not have been because of a used wedding dress. "I know this isn't probably how you imagined your wedding…"

Paige let out a dark laugh. It was a little hollow and a little sad but the smile it left on her face was something, at least.

"I never thought I was going to get married." She said, "Even when I was a kid. It never even occurred to me. And now…"

"Paige? Do you… want to do this?"

Paige thought about that and that was what scared the crap out of Sam. Paige sat in her chair and thought quietly for the longest, stickiest minute Sam had ever known. Sam took a deep breath and sat in the chair next to hers it creaked loudly in all the silence of a _bride _in her _wedding dress_ as she _thought _about _wanting _ to walk down the aisle. In, like, thirty minutes.

"How did you know you wanted to get married?" Paige asked him suddenly and Sam's mouth went dry. "I know about your girlfriend, the one who died? Jess? And I know that you were going to ask her to marry you."

Jess. Everyday Sam thought about Jess and today was just a bit harder. It was easier when Sam thought about the fact that Jess wasn't pregnant. Jess wouldn't have been wearing a wedding dress that some other, pregnant woman had gotten married in. It would have been on a beach instead of the half finished house in the middle of nowhere Montana. And Jess would have been… Jess. Bright, bubbly, vibrant, laughing. Surrounded by her friends, her bridesmaids, her family.

It would have been Jess, overflowing with light and beauty and normal. Paige didn't seem to have that luxury. Jess had never known the darkness that Sam and Paige and Dean and Bobby lived everyday. She had never known that there were things out there that wanted to hurt, just to watch someone cry. She had never had to choose who lived and died, had never been faced with something so big and dark and cruel that she just knew she wasn't going to beat it. Jess had never known that, at least not until the end. Maybe that was why Sam had loved her. Maybe that was why so many hunters tried to marry normal people, like his mother had.

Because normal people reminded them of why they were fighting. Because normal people smiled without hesitation and had friends that they hadn't burned on the pyre and were still delusional enough to think that the worst thing that could possibly happen would be a divorce. Paige looked very scared and alone. It occurred to Sam that she had every right to be scared because they were all very alone. There were no parents to walk her down the aisle, not father to give her away and no mother to fuss over her dress. Her best friend had gone out like a hero and even her hunting mentor was just ash and the memory of a man who told her he loved her for the first time as he walked into his death. Paige was very alone.

"Jess was… well, Jess was everything. She was my best friend. Whenever anything happened a good grade on a test, a crappy day, I wanted to tell her. I couldn't _wait _to tell her. And I loved hearing about her day. I loved hearing her talk, she was so funny. And cool. And just… not like the rest of us. I mean, not just hunters, she was so different from anyone I've ever met. Everyday I just… marveled at the fact that she _existed._ How could anyone like her be _real? _She had this sexy, raspy voice and she was so interesting to listen to, but she was so invested in _me_. She had the smartest, funniest, coolest things to say and she wanted to listen _me? _She loved _me? _I just… I was alone, at Stanford. I was lonely at Stanford. And she… she made me forget what it felt to be like that. Jess was just, everything. She was everything ever."

"Oh, shit, Sam, I'm sorry." Said Paige and Sam realized that his eyes were welling up. Maybe Dean was right about him getting too emotional at weddings.

"We got the bastard that did it. That's… that's all that was left to do and now she's… somewhere. Heaven, I suppose. And I hope that I'm in some of that, up there. I hope I made her happy."

"You remember heaven?" asked Paige.

"Yeah. Yeah it's… not too bad. Just, the happiest moments of your life, over and over again. It's sad to think of all the happy moments people never got, you know, when they die so young, but you're just… happy. And it feels like home, sometimes."

"You should go get changed." Paige said suddenly, looking out the window. "Sun sets really soon, you should change." Sam looked cautiously at Paige and she dabbed at the corners of her eyes, but gave Sam a smile and a reassuring nod. "Go, I'm fine. I'm good, go."

Sam left her as he went downstairs to get his fed suit from the Impala.

* * *

By some miracle, Paige got downstairs without running into anyone. She cast a nervous look up and down the hall before rapping on the door in front of her.

"Jesus, I can't be late to my own wedding, guys. We're cool, I'm coming."

"David, let me in."

"Paige?"

Paige didn't wait for him to open the door before she threw it open, ran in and shut it behind her. Zapata slammed his eyes closed and put his hand over them, as if he could block out the image by sheer force.

"Paige! I'm not supposed to see you."

"I don't have time for this, please, just… fuck it and look at me, I need to you look at me." Paige pleaded. Zapata obediently dropped his hand from his eyes and looked her over.

"God, baby, you look amazing." He murmured.

"I need to talk to you."

"Now? You can't wait, like, an hour? We've got this thing… that we need to do."

"No, now. I need to talk now."

"Ok. Ok, here, sit down."

"Can't, I can't…"

"You ok, baby?"

"I will be," Paige wrung her hands feverishly as she started to pace and Zapata's face fell and grew stony.

"Should I sit down?"

"I need you to make me a promise." She said suddenly, "I need you to promise me something."

"Honey, I got a whole bunch of promises I'm going to make you today. Out there. With witnesses. At our wedding. In, like, fifteen minutes."

"I die first."

"What?" Zapata gave a nervously dry chuckle.

"You and me? I die first. I'm not burning you, David. I'm not. I can't… I just can't again. I'm so scared to lose you. I'm so scared that I can't sleep at night because I'm counting down the minutes I have left with you. I can't live like that. Everyone I've ever loved... not you too. Promise. I die first. Promise it. You have to promise. I can't…"

"Whoa, whoa, baby, deep breath." Zapata cooed, walking towards her like she was a startled and cornered animal. Maybe she was. His tentative fingers against her skin made her sob quietly and he pulled her into him and she collapsed against him, forcing him to accept her weight and her neediness. He pulled her tighter, turning her a little so that he could pull her full body against his around her pregnant stomach. "I can't promise that." He said into her hair, "No one can promise that. Not the way we live."

"Then change the way we live." She said it into his suit and it came out muffled and childish.

"Paige—"

"We don't have to stop. We can help, but why do we have to be out there? Why do we have to be the ones risking our lives? Promise me that I go first."

"You can't ask me to stop saving people, Paige. That's why I hunt. "

"Then promise that you'll always come back in one piece."

"I can't—"

"David, you _have to_." She sobbed into his chest, "Please? Please let me be unreasonable and selfish and needy just this once. Say that I don't have to be the one who needs to learn how to survive without you. I'm not the one who gets left behind. I'm so tired of starting over. Promise me that I never have to do it again. _Promise me_."

"I promise, honey. Baby. Mi cielo, mi renia, mi esposa." Zapata said softly, holding her to his chest as she clung to him.

* * *

"Gummy bear, that dress is the most atrocious thing I've ever seen."

Paige had just walked back into the room to get her bouquet and try to calm herself before she went downstairs and made the biggest commitment of her life.

"I'm the bride, Gabriel, you're supposed to be nice to me."

Gabriel walked forwards toward Paige and pinched the faux satin tulle, pulling a face that genuinely looked like he might vomit.

"Are you going to stand there and tell me that you are happy to be getting married in this thing? Oh, my father have mercy, I just saw the plastic jewels on the sleeves. Did you get this at a bridal shop or a costume shop? Paige. Tell the truth."

"I'm so happy you're here." Paige said, and she smiled a real smile at him. Her friend. On her wedding day. Radiating his angel feel good vibrations and being his usual self; mocking, powerful, irritating, but there. But holding her cheap dress in one hand and her hand in the other. "I'm so happy you're here with me."

"Of course I am." He said gently and Paige's eyes watered. "Ok, stop that. I need to give you your present."

"You don't have to give me anything, Gabriel. I'm just happy you're here. I wish… I wish my mom was here. She'd hate this dress more than you would." Paige said, laughing wetly. Gabriel returned her smile weakly. "Jo would have made a beautiful bride, wouldn't she? I mean… I don't know what I mean. She'll never… I miss her."

"I know. I know you do."

"I'm trying."

"I know."

"I do like him. I do, I really do."

"Hey, save it for the altar." Gabriel said softly and Paige made a wet snorting sound and Gabriel turned her so that they were both facing the old mirror. Paige looked at them together. Her, pregnant, teary eyed, wearing a dress that was made for someone else's special day. Someone else's life started in this dress. Someone else was so happy when they wore it. Gabriel read her mind, "Do you want to get married?"

"I want to make David happy." Said Paige, "I want to make him happy while we still have time. I'm so messed up. There's so much that I can't give him. He wants this. I can do this for him."

"That's not a reason to get married."

"I don't want to spend my life with anyone else." Said Paige, "He makes me smile. He makes me feel special. Is that a good reason to marry someone? Gabriel? Is that why God made marriage?"

"It had less to do with love than property mergers and family politics but, yeah, love was in there somewhere. Do you love him?"

"I could."

"Gummy bear…"

"Gabriel." Said Paige, and she looked down at her dress, uselessly trying to smooth the tacky fabric as it bunched awkwardly over her pregnant bump. The little girl inside her gave a singe, strong kick, as though she, too, disliked the costume. Her daughter. Paige put her hands over her daughter, "I want a family, Gabriel. I mean, husband, wife, partner, child, home. I want those things, everyone wants those things, but now that they're here… it's terrifying. I always told myself I had nothing to lose. Then, of course, I lost that, even. Now… we're building something and I'm afraid because it's so much more. There's no more kidding myself. I have _things _and a _person _and a _place. _It's so scary. But he makes me happy. He's not afraid, at all. He wants to take care of me and I want to take care of him and together we'll take care of our daughter. I have a _future _and I haven't had one of those in a very long time. I have a future with him."

Gabriel took a long breath through his nose and ran his hands over Paige's shoulders and down to her hips. As his hands moved, the fabric of the dress shifted in the light. Gabriel stepped away from her and after a moment, Paige realized that she wasn't wearing the secondhand wedding dress anymore, but something new.

The rhinestones were gone, replaced with a thin, delicate strand of pearls along the neckline of her dress. The polyester dress was suddenly silk, draping simply over her swollen stomach.

She turned to Gabriel and he stood, looking at her dress with his chin in his hand. He raised one finger as a lightbulb went off in his head and Paige felt something light appear in her hair. She turned back to the mirror to see a dainty crown of yellow flowers.

Paige looked in the mirror and felt her eyes well up all over again. She looked like a bride. She looked like herself, in her own dress, on her own wedding.

She was getting _married._

"Gabriel," she said in awe, "I feel like a princess."

"Today is the only day you get to make _any _fairy godmother references." He warned, but he reached forward and tucked a piece of dark hair into her flower crown, letting her kiss him affectionately.

Someone downstairs put a sweet, if scratchy, piano tune on the record and Paige hastily wiped her eyes.

She was getting _married._

Gabriel held his arm out to her, and she took it, swallowing the new wave of tears as Gabriel led her down the aisle.

* * *

Dean was very well behaved, considering. Sam only pulled his lips into a thin line as he saw Paige and Gabriel walking towards them, from the old country house to the porch of the new one. Paige was a little surprised, but everyone kept civil.

She let out a delirious giggle that only Gabriel heard as she saw the men waiting for her. She felt like she was playing dress up and getting married on a school playground. The wedding had been thrown together in a day and it looked it, but there was a certain charm to the Walmart string lights and the folding chairs_. _At the end stood Zapata and Rufus, Sam and Dean acting as witnesses and Bobby shifting in his cheap suit as it cut into his neck. Paige looked at Zapata and gave him a ridiculous grin, hoping he could see how cute and perfect and serious all the hunters looked. He grinned broadly back. Paige didn't even see him react to Gabriel, but she felt his eyes on her as the new, cool dress slid along the long grass that they forgot to trim.

It felt like a thousand years before they reached Rufus and Zapata at the end and Paige couldn't suppress the silly, childish need to be close to Zapata. She wanted to share the joke with him. They were kids playing grown up, but the playhouse was their real home and the baby was a real baby and she was wearing a real dress and he was wearing a real suit and they were getting _married. _

They got to the arch and Rufus moved to stand behind them as Paige and Zapata took each other's hands. He had gotten a certificate online and he was going to officiate the wedding. He opened his mouth when Gabriel loudly cleared his throat. He gave Rufus a cold look before the older hunter stepped away and Gabriel took his place behind the couple.

"Mortals. Other mortals." Gabriel began with grandiose, "We gather here today to unite these two souls in a single union."

Zapata raised his eyebrows at Paige who smiled and shrugged, looking nervously at Zapata then turning her attention back to Gabriel, begging him quietly to not give the hunters more reasons to dunk him in holy oil.

"I've been around for a while, and I've seen humanity through all it's ups and downs and downs and more downs. There has always been war. There has always been Hell. As long as there is the sunlight, there will have to be the darkness and when two souls find each other, they can make it through. They make it through the war. They make it through the suffering. They make it through the night because they have each other. Shitty times aren't as shitty when two people commit themselves, promise each other to take care of the other. So that way no one has to take the brunt of the hit alone. So that way no one has to be strong all by themselves. I know that none of you are exactly crazy about me or the God squad, but at least know this; as long as you two have each other, and hold each other, through all the crappy times, you can know that there will be good times too. Good times that you can share with each other. Good times that you can create together. So let's celebrate two people promising to take each other, sickness, health, Heaven and Hell. Let's celebrate something beautiful in all this mess. Let's make some good times around these two because, my father knows that we've got some seriously shitty ones ahead. Did you guys want to say something?"

"Um, I did," said Zapata, grinning nervously. He licked his lips and turned to Paige, "Paige. I told you I was gonna make a bunch of promises to you, and I'm going to do everything in my power to keep them because… I don't know, because I want to. I promise to come when you call me, no matter what. I promise that if you need me or miss me or can't find the damn remote I will drop what I'm doing and come to you. I promise to make you smile, everyday because, damn it if just _thinking _of you doesn't make me smile. I promise to learn everything about you. I promise to know you, and remember you and think of you everyday. I promise to keep your promises, even when they're selfish and needy. So, I want to marry you, and start a life with you and finally get around to making good on some of these promises."

Zapata lifted her hand to his lips as he finished his statement and Paige nodded quickly to everything she and Zapata could have together. Everything they could create together. She glanced over at Gabriel and he nodded her along, so she took a bracing breath.

"David, I vow to take care of you when you get hurt. I vow to not get mad when you need to save people and the world and everyone besides yourself because I know that's just who you are. I promise to love who you are, even if I don't understand it all the time. I promise to smile for you everyday, and I promise to work hard to get you to smile back because… I just love it when you smile. I promise to live in your house and share your bed and make our lives a single one. Because it's better when I'm with you. It's better when you're around. You're my favorite person. So let's get married. And let's start a new life together. And let me be yours so you can be mine."

"We good?" asked Gabriel, "All good?" he repeated, looking between Paige and Zapata, then the hunters watching the ceremony. "Awesome, Man, wife, kiss the bride if you want."

The words barely left Gabriel's mouth when Zapata pulled Paige into a giddy, beautiful, long, slow kiss, starting their life together. Building something new together. Getting ready to hunker down and hold onto each other through all the suffering and crap that was coming their way. Because it was better when they were together. It was terrifying, but it was better.

* * *

**So many sentimental squishy love feelings! Tell me what you think of the lighter note in the story! **


	53. Chapter 53: Falls Down like Rain

"I don't like it."

"Mkay, baby. I'm getting that. What don't you like about it?"

"It's pink."

"We're having a girl. Pink is sort of a thing."

"Well, I don't like it."

"Ok… well, what do you want to do? Something more gender neutral? Want to throw caution to the wind and run in the opposite direction? Navy blue? Some military green? Camo?"

"I think you're teasing me and I don't appreciate it." Paige said with a loud huff and Zapata had the sense to hide his face as he smiled at his wife's temper. He and Paige were walking the aisle of a home improvement store, trying to pick paint samples. What it had escalated to was Paige getting huffy and grumpy with each sample he pulled from the shelf. She shifted her weight and Zapata was starting to recognize the signs of her exhaustion. The fact was, with every day that she got bigger, that little timer that divided his sweet, quiet wife from a sulking, sarcastic bundle of temper got shorter. While he found the latter much more amusing than the former, he didn't like Paige being uncomfortable and he didn't want to push it with her.

"Let's go home and talk this through. You're tired."

"'m not tired."

"Ok, well, I'm tired, so lets go back home."

"I…I just want to do this, David. It's a really big deal."

"It's her nursery. It's not that big of a deal. She probably won't even remember it and once she is old enough to remember stuff, she'll be able to pick her own paint samples. "

"I don't like pink."

"Ok. Ok, honey. No pink." He said and Paige relaxed a little, giving a long sigh and shifting her weight, "But you might have to tell some of the hunters who stop by for your baby shower because I don't think I got the memo. You're having a daughter, people are going to give you a bunch of pink stuff."

"What baby shower?" Paige asked with a sad smirk, "David, all the women friends I have are dead."

"Ok, don't get upset, but Bobby decided to throw a little baby shower next week. Just Sam and Dean and Rufus and stuff, but I bet a lot of hunters are going to stop by, leave some gifts at least."

"Dav—"

"Look, ok, I'm sorry, but… this isn't about us. It isn't even about our daughter. It's about… Do you know how many hunters have kids? Have kids that are alive? This life makes women die young and men leave their children behind and hunters know that, they aren't stupid. Ok? I'm not stupid. I get that settling down is a luxury and a risk. I get that nothing is permanent and we don't always get what we want. The world is ending and all that crap, but people get excited when they hear that one of us is having a baby. They get excited when there is life somewhere in this death ridden existence. So let them throw you a baby shower and smile when they give you pink diapers and teddy bears. It isn't about us."

"David… it was supposed to be a surprise?"

"Yeah. Like I said, Bobby's idea."

"You told me. You told me about the baby shower, though."

"Well, you hate surprises."

"I do hate surprises."

Zapata gave a shrug and turned back to the paint samples, pulling a muted lemon color from the shelf. He held the sample up to Paige, waiting for her to reject it when she suddenly grabbed his head and guided it down for a kiss.

"Thank you." She said against his lips, his head still cradled in her hands, "Thank you."

* * *

Castiel the angel appeared softly into the nursery of Paige's unborn daughter.

He had watched the party, small as it was, as everyone fawned over the big pregnant swell in Paige's stomach. They were mostly women, three to be exact. One was old enough to be her mother, the other two were in their thirties, each a little grizzled and worn with the hunt. Each a little sadder than the last.

The nursery was still the unpainted grey color of the bare plaster, the toys and other odd trinkets humans hoarded when they were expecting a child were piled high in the middle of the room. His father gave human mothers everything that they needed to feed and ensure the survival of a child, but they insisted on collecting the bits of fabric and plastic that they believed they needed. Castiel didn't really understand it.

He walked to the middle of the pile and placed his own present, a small, stuffed horse onto the precarious pile of folded pink unitards.

"You're supposed to give little girls pink." Said a voice and, had Castiel been a human, he would have jumped. David Zapata was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I wasn't aware that you were present. I apologize."

"Angel sigils on the ribs. Wedding present from Gabriel. Would have preferred the grill, but, hey, angel protection isn't too shabby, if a little painful."

He did that lip tilt thing that Dean did sometimes, it could be mistaken for a smile, but not a friendly one. The eyes were narrow and hard.

"Ah," was all Castiel could think to say.

"We missed you at the wedding. I told Dean to pray or whatever to get you down here, but you didn't show." He said, crossing his arms again and he leaned back against the wall, blocking the doorway, "Didn't come to the baby shower either. Thoughtful to bring a present, though."

Castiel looked down at the blue horse in his hand and then at all the varying shades of pink around it. It had struck him as odd, when he got the toy, that the entire store might as well have been divided by blue and pink. He'd had a 50% chance of picking the right color and he had clearly picked wrong. He still felt Zapata's eyes on him, so he looked up. He couldn't read the expression on Zapata's face and he hated it. Castiel realized that he should have left the same second that Zapata dropped the lighter on the floor, igniting the holy fire and locking him in place.

"Human, do you know what you do?" demanded Castiel as the panic began to settle in his chest. Besides Lucifer, Castiel had never been bound by holy fire. The human took a step towards him. Castiel knew that he, the angel, was stronger than the human, but he didn't feel it. Not right then. Not at that moment.

"I've got a couple of questions and… I didn't want you flying off."

"You dare try to bind me? Release me, now. I may be forgiving."

"In a minute, Castiel, in a minute."

The flames were too hot, they were too close. Castiel was trapped, he was locked, it was getting smaller, he couldn't move. It was too much, it was too close, he hated it.

"See, Cas, there is this thing that I don't really get… about that hunt where we met. That one where I woke up in Paige's room. See, neither of us remembers anything."

"You have locked me here to explain the side effects of excessive alcohol consumption?"

"I never said we were drinking."

"I assumed."

"Fair enough. Yeah, yeah, we were drinking. But, thing is, we got black out drunk and, personally, I didn't have a hang over the next morning. If I drank enough to black out, why didn't I have a hang over?" Zapata began circling the fire as he talked, looking at his feet and his hands as he mulled the questions over, not accusing. Not yet. "And, here's the really weird part, I didn't buy the booze. Gentleman should always buy, and I always did in the past. But, later, when I checked my wallet, I had all my money. I even checked my credit cards and nothing from a liquor store or anything. And, that sort of stuff adds up. Especially the amount that a person like me would need to get that drunk."

"What are you asking me?" Castiel snapped impatiently. He knew that the ring of fire was unmoving, but couldn't shake the feeling of it squeezing him like a hand around his throat.

"Well, see, all that is what we used to call circumstantial evidence. We can't nail a guy on circumstantial evidence alone, we need motive and evidence and maybe a witness, _something_. I mean, call it a crazy hunch, but that sounds like an elaborate set-up. Like a scene from a TV show or something. And, that's crazy, right? If that were true, then we'd need someone strong enough to move me to Paige's room, powerful enough to erase both of our memories and detail oriented enough to leave a lie behind. That's something with a lot of mojo. And I was thinking to myself, what kind of creatures had we recently dealt with that could have that much power?"

Castiel swallowed hard and his eyes darted around the flames again.

"How long have you been suspicious?"

"Couple of weeks. When you didn't show at the wedding."

"I…" started Castiel. But he was interrupted by the big dark eyes of Paige as she looked into the room, around the doorway. Her eyes got larger as she saw Castiel bound by holy fire. She looked to Zapata for an answer, but Zapata kept his gaze trained on Castiel.

"David?" she asked, unable to tear her eyes away from the prisoner, "David, what are you doing?"

"I had a hunch. Castiel, would you like to explain it to her, or would you like me to say what I think?"

Castiel hadn't thought he'd be able to evade this forever either. The child had a chance of looking like Jimmy, resembling him in face and temperament. Perhaps not immediately, but eventually, Castiel knew that the humans would question the child's paternity. He had hoped it would take them longer, but Castiel had done the right thing, he knew it in his gut. He had saved her from her dark fate. He had created a family for a soul destined to grow cold and bitter. She was beautiful in his arms and basking in his smile. They were a family, and Castiel gave them that. He squared his shoulders and met Zapata's hard stare.

"You slept with her, didn't you?"

Castiel nodded once, keeping his eyes on Zapata, a monkey challenging another's dominance. Zapata took a long breath. Paige made a strangled laughing sound.

"Me? Castiel and _me?_ You're kidding. No, I've never been with Cas. Never. Not once."

Castiel gave her an unwavering look and her face fell. She shook her head at him. The she kept shaking her head. Then her eyes welled up and she kept shaking her head no as if it would send her back in time and change things. She looked to her husband, eyes shining and kept shaking her head. No. No. No. As if sheer will alone could make it true.

Castiel swallowed the feeling that bubbled in his chest. Was it pride? Was his pride damaged because she seemed so devastated to have been with him? It was a feeling that engulfed him, taking him whole and he didn't like it. So he swallowed the feeling down. He was an angel and he didn't have to feel anything he didn't want to.

Why was that thought so much easier to articulate in his mind than to make true in his heart?

"Why are the angels so far up her ass? Why can't they ever just leave her alone?" Zapata asked, not looking at his wife.

"It is in her blood, her destiny. I'm doing what I can to make it easier. I'm trying to save her from it all."

"How is this helping, again?"

"Let him go," said a voice, dark and menacing and Zapata turned to see Gabriel in the hallway. Except it wasn't the cheeky angel leading his Paige down the aisle, but standing, braced for a fight, looking at Zapata through the fringe of his hair. "Let him go before I make you."

Zapata looked between the angels and Castiel saw the current of fear run through him. He was suddenly outnumbered and very much out gunned. Castiel looked hesitantly to his brother, and even he had to admit that Gabriel looked terrifying.

"Gabriel," Paige said shakily, trying to hold it together. "Gabriel, tell the truth."

"You and Castel have been intimate, I can smell you all over each other."

Paige grabbed the archangel's arm as he said it, leaning on him. She didn't look at her husband or the angel in the fire, just at Gabriel. He looked back down at her, and Castiel was sure that only he could recognize the sadness that fell from Gabriel's grace as he looked at Paige. As he looked at his friend.

"Why?"

"Because he is a fool."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you _tell _me?"

"Why didn't I tell you that the child that grows inside of you is not your husband's? Three guesses."

"Gabr—"

Zapata turned fully from Castiel to face Gabriel, staring him down. They were about the same height, though the hatred clouding Zapata's soul made him seem larger, threatening. His fist clenched and Gabriel tilted his head and sneered, daring Zapata to take a swing at him.

"David," said Paige softly, closing her hand around his wrist, still sitting at his side, "David, let me talk to Gabriel."

Zapata finally looked at his wife, giving her a hard stare, his eyes flitting across her features, trying to find… something. Something to keep them together. Something to hold onto because, Zapata was clearly drowning in angels and destiny and things he didn't understand. Paige broke his gaze, looking at the floor, and Zapata left the room quickly and angrily.

"Gabriel?" Paige asked and instead of answering her, the archangel finally glanced over to Castiel. He snapped his fingers and Cas was gone, ripped from the time and place of the nursery.

* * *

Gabriel kept his eyes trained on where Castiel had disappeared. Paige wanted to say something, she wanted to say a lot of things, but she didn't. She waited for him to start. She waited for him to explain so she could find a way to forgive him.

Paige was always looking for ways to forgive.

"Castiel is the father of your child. I believe that he appeared to you while you were in your fertile cycle with the intention of impregnating you."

"What? _What? _Why?"

"Let's sit down." Said Gabriel, and Paige glared at him. He looked to her pregnant stomach and then back up to her. "Sit down. I will tell you everything."

Paige eased herself into the fluffy round chair of the room, holding her belly with one hand and still clutching Gabriel's arm with the other, even as she walked to the chair and sat down, she held tight to him.

"The apocalypse is upon us." Said Gabriel softly. Paige nodded, making an impatient, 'go on' gesture with her hand. Gabriel continued, "For hundreds of years, thousands, millennia, my father created a reset button on your species. The world was going to end, was _always, _going to end with Sam and Dean Winchester. With an angel battle royale. With my family's blood spilled amongst the blood of mankind. That's always how it was going to be. We were always going to come to this.

"But, humankind would still exist. My father never wished to rid the earth of your species, he just wanted to... prune it. Yes, there will be war and death and carnage. Even before man, there was war. Angels learned it in infancy. Before I could fly, I could kill. Before I could love, I knew that my family's blood drip from my blade and from my heart. This is an angel's war, but it is a human's world. Try to understand that.

"But, see, we don't know what comes after. We don't know which of my brothers will win. We don't know who will die or who will live and what the world will look like, after it all goes down and the smoke clears. We've been promised peace, but we've never been told what peace looks like. No one knows how to navigate the new world, our father entrusted those plans to a single prophet. A single, human soul will know the fate of the world after the death. My father always did like his prophets. I think that he left his word with a human to be sure that we all played nice with your species after it was all over. Many angels resent you. They are not all Lucifer, filled with hatred and malice, but they are also not ready to die for you. Not unless our father has explicitly demanded it and, I believe his choice of a prophet has done that clearly enough.

"You wanted to know your destiny? There it is. Here, inside you, growing."

"My… not… my?"

"Your daughter. You are the protector of the last prophet. You are the guardian of her life. As am I. Your child is to be the one to guide our world, angels and man, after the war. After the death, it will be her word and the word of God. Congratulations." Gabriel ended it looking over Paige's head and with a flat tone.

"Child psychics…"

"Are not much different from child prophets." He said tersely and Paige nodded slowly.

"Why Castiel, though? Why wipe my memory? Why is he the father of the… she's half angel? What does that mean?"

"Nothing, really. Just as Castiel's fingerprint and hair and saliva are truly Jimmy's, his seed is too. It's a human child. A demon is different… see, demons used to be people. They still have souls, even if they are warped. But angels? We've never been human. Our grace and our species cannot reproduce sexually. She will be an entirely human child, with a human personality and a human mortality. She will be ordinary. Minus the word of God, prophet of peace thing.

"I've been following you your whole life because of this prophecy, because of the child you would bear. I am an archangel, and above all else, we protect our father's word with our lives. I will die for your child. I will die for the prophet

"The memory? Well, I said there was dark in your destiny. Good and the bad, dark with the light."

"My child will be a psychic. She will be like… Sam or… Tim. What is darker than that? She's doomed. My baby is—" and Paige shook her head because it was too hard to voice. Tim's blank eyes looked up at her through a mass of dark curls. A child's soft voice speaking the words of souls gone. Not a child, but a telephone line. Not a life but a vessel. Paige sobbed.

"All prophets are psychic, but not all psychics are prophets. Tim was a special little snowflake. He got his ability early and potent. Most aren't like that, but, no, your child won't be normal in the hop-scotch, lunchbox, little league way. She is marked by something greater than myself. It will dictate her life, but it doesn't have to be all bad. The darkness I'm talking about is… that your destiny isn't quite done yet. The birth of the prophet is only the beginning for you. The other part is…

Peace can only be born through war. The ash left from the fire fertilizes the new plant as it grows. "

"Gabriel, I can't do plays on words right now. Just, tell me. What more could I possibly give besides my child? What do I have left?"

"You killed the father of your first child."

"It still haunts me."

"You're not getting it… you _killed _the father of the prophet. "

"You said that my _daughter _was the prophet."

"I said your child. You've already birthed and buried a prophet. Abraham. God chose the first Abraham to lead the Jews to the promised land. The second Abraham would lead them to peace, finally. The true promised land. "

"You said you would die for the prophet. You are here, talking to me but my son is buried. I held him _in my arms as he died_. You let him die. My son. My son and now my daughter?"

"That had less to do with the prophet and more to do with… Michael. And Raphael. They couldn't find me. They didn't know where I went after I rebelled. They couldn't track me, but they could lure me and they did. I had been watching you, the big finale, after all. I couldn't resist. And they knew it. And they used it."

"My son is dead."

"Because a couple of archangels wanted to watch _me, _not you, hurt. It was all for me. I am so sorry that you got caught in the cross hairs." Gabriel was looking at Paige now, "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I never thought they'd kill him. I never thought they'd be so cruel."

"I believe you," said Paige, her eyes shining, "I forgive you. Gabriel. I know how they hunt you down. It isn't your fault. You would never do that to me."

Paige linked her fingers with his and Gabriel kissed her forehead, stroking her hair before she pulled away a little bit.

"What did you say about Spencer?" she asked and Gabriel heaved a long sigh.

"You killed him. You were always going to kill him. It's a thing. The child has to be 'born of war.' Think of it in terms of opposites, yin and yang and stuff. The apocalypse pits heaven and hell against each other, one will win out, finally. Heaven and Hell. Light and dark. Earth and sky. Man and woman. My father wrote a war and everything my father says comes to pass. Heaven must conquer Hell. There must be light overcoming the dark. The mother must kill the father because, finally, all these opposites working in tandem must come to a head and one wins out. My father is nothing if not obsessed with symbolism. Hence the Winchesters being actual brothers instead of strangers. Hence Sam's actual, mortal fall instead of innocence. My father's plan needs total commitment on everyone's part.

"You were destined to kill Spencer Platt the second his seed fertilized your egg, he was a dead man."

"Why didn't you tell me all this before? Why is it coming up now and I still don't understand what Castiel has to do with it. He's the father of my child and I don't know why."

"You weren't supposed to know your destiny. You still aren't but you're scared and… anyways, Castiel. My wonderful, stupid brother. You had to kill the father of your child, the father of the prophet. But, Jimmy is already dead. Gone. Vacated the building, there is no soul in there, just Cas. He thinks… he thinks that he found a loophole. You have the child, Jimmy's child, but there is no one to kill. No competing soul you need to win out over since it was gone before you even got pregnant. He did it so that you and Zapata could be a family. War takes everything from people. Castiel was trying to give you that. A family. One you don't have to kill."

"Did he? Will it work?"

"I… don't know. Honestly, none of us know, that wasn't even conceived as a possibility. It isn't supposed to happen, that's for sure, but no one thought about what would happen if it did. The child is supposed to be neutral, leading humanity after Heaven or Hell's victory. This… clearly tips the scales in Heaven's favor, even if Cas is locked out and they're not speaking to him. He's an angel and he shouldn't have done that. They will kill him for it, once they find out. No one besides Cas and I know about that so far."

"What about my daughter? They killed Abraham. What will stop them from killing her?"

"Mercy. In other words, nothing. Not until she has her first vision. They killed your son in infancy, but they wouldn't have been able to if he was a true prophet. He was just on deck for the word of god. Remember that these rules were created back when infant mortality was roughly sixty percent. A child's soul is… dangerous and unpredictable. It can't just be brought back without extreme circumstances. Your oldest child will always be the one in line for the prophecy until the prophecy lands on their lap. They won't be able to harm her once she taps into her destiny. Hers is the last one."

"So, my son was the prophet until he died. Now my daughter is. And if she should die?"

"Then you would bear another prophet."

"If that child should die?" she asked softly, the answer. She already knew the answer, it was there in the tone of her voice.

They you would conceive another prophet. And another. And another until whatever my father had to say gets said."

"And if I should die?"

"They would bring you back. Until your daughter speaks his plan, they'll keep bringing you back."

"So I can't escape it? There is no way out?" she asked, desperate, her eyes were shining and wild and Gabriel wondered if she could even see him. He had read her her death sentence and looking at him with terrified eyes. Why was it his duty to put her through this?

"Castiel. It's a long shot and a risk and a gamble, but if he's right… you don't have to spill any more blood. That's why I let the pregnancy continue. That's why I didn't terminate it once I smelled him on you. It probably won't work, but it might. 'Might' is worth it."

"Gabriel. Gabriel, is nothing mine?"

"No."

Paige gave a weak sob and finally let go of the archangel's arm. He wished she would hold it again. His grace could numb some of the pain, novacaine the hurt and the shock and the helplessness. It was all he could give her. Fuck, why was that all he could give her?

"What will I tell David?"

"The truth, I guess. He needs to know. Paige, don't have another child. Should anything happen to this one… I don't want you to have to kill an innocent man."

"Again." She said, looking at the floor. The tears never fell. She just swallowed them down. She was getting good at that. "You don't want me to have to kill an innocent man again."

"Spencer was not innocent."

"You don't know, Gabriel." She said softly, "You don't know who he was or how he was. He messed up. He hurt people. But he never killed anyone. I didn't have the right."

"Don't feel guilty over his death. Don't you dare."

"Why not?" she asked, with a hollow laugh, looking up at him for the first time in a while. Gabriel's face must have betrayed something because her features hardened. "Gabriel, what aren't you telling me?"

"I _did _know Spencer. I watched his dreams, tying girls up, _young _girls. Whipping them. Bleeding them. He touched himself as he thought about how they'd beg him for mercy. He didn't even like that kind of porn because the actresses consented. He thought it was too fake. He wanted to destroy a body. Wanted to break it. Used to think about a neighbor girl his sister babysat. She was twelve and he touched himself as he thought about shoving things into her body. He was _not _innocent."

"How do you know all this?"

"It was always my job to watch over you. It was always my job to follow my father's plan. I couldn't stay away. It would all end with you, don't you see?"

"But how do you know all that stuff about—" she froze, her lips forming words too horrible to perceive. Gabriel hated the truth in the unspoken accusation. "Gabriel, did you know what he would do to me?"

Gabriel looked at the floor but he felt her eyes, hard and accusing, as they searched him. Looking for something to forgive. Always looking for something to forgive.

"You would have to kill whoever it was that created a life with you. It didn't say anywhere that it had to be an _innocent _person that you killed."

"Did you _choose _him for me? Did… did you set him and Stephanie up? Did you put me and her in the same dorm room? Did you… _want… _this to happen?"

"It would have happened, whether I wanted it or not."

"But not with him. That was all you."

"Yes."

"Get out."

"Paige…"

"He raped me, Gabriel. I cried and he _raped _me. He _ripped me open. _No one could hear me cry because the music was too… you turned up the stereo. It was you. The whole time it was you. That was the worst moment of my life and you _helped _him? Get out, Gabriel. Get out of my house."

"You had to kill him. You _had _to." If Gabriel weren't an archangel, that would sound like pleading. But it wasn't. Gabriel never apologized. Not even when his friend was looking at him as if seeing him for the first time. Hate. Hate and fear and hate again. He had never seen her look like that, not even when she stared down something she hunted. But she hated him. "He was not innocent and he deserved to die."

"Get out."

"Would you prefer some other man? John, perhaps? Could you have killed him? Could you have held his child and lifted a gun to him and kill him? Because you would have had to. He would have died and it would have been your fault. A car accident. A demon possession. Could you be responsible for the death of a man you loved like that? Could you do that to Zapata? Hell, to your little tryst with a bartender?"

"Get. Out."

" I saved you from that."

"I'm tired of your 'help!'" she roared. "OUT. GET OUT."

Gabriel did. He vanished before she even finished the sentence and Paige curled up over herself and wept.

He felt her tragedy through his bones, tied to her by the necklace. Her hurt and hateful face starting up at him. Why was it his job to do that to his friend?

Why did he have to be the one thing she couldn't forgive?

* * *

**Phew. That was s doozy, but hopefully it clears some things up. I want to say that the next chapter will be tomorrow or the day after, but I've said that before and almost never made good on it. I LOVE YOU, THOUGH!**


	54. Chapter 54: Absolution

**Haha, I did it. SUCK ON THAT, people who doubted me. Yeah, stings, don't it? DON'T IT? Sorry, I'm delirious from my writing we go. **

**So, I'm conflicted; I know that there are people in this world who don't like slash and only prefer het, therefore seek out OFC character stories as the only relief from the slash dominated fandom. BUT I am not an exclusively het writer. Also, I guess I've had more than a few slash scenes already. So, warning for those who are squeamish about penis on penis action, the first half of this chapter is very phallically inclined, if you know what I mean. There's more than one rooster in this pen, if you get what I'm saying. Two swords in this duel, if you're picking up what I'm laying down. **

**Basically, graphic man on man sex. **

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

Dean had never heard the ground move when Castiel appeared, but this time it did. Dean was in Bobby's junkyard with his baby's hood open and blaring ACDC from her radio, but it all skipped and stammered when the earth let out a monumental "oof" as an angel of heaven came crashing into it.

Dean all but jumped over the Impala's hood once he realized that it was Cas. Cas sprawled on the ground, eyes looking dazed up at his face.

"Cas, Cas, buddy, talk to me." Dean said. He had no idea how to check an angel's vital signs. Should he listen for a heart beat? Check a pulse? Did angels breathe? Yes, he remembered, yes, he had a very vivid memory of hot breath ghosting over his face, inappropriately close. Wanting.

Not the time, hormones, not the time.

"CAS. USE YOUR GODDAMN WORDS."

"My father—not—damn."

"Christ, man you had me scared."

Castiel gave a weak smile and gently eased out from under Dean, being careful not to touch him. Dean got the memo and gave the angel a little space. Standing again, Dean reached into the Impala to turn down the radio. He was unsurprised to feel Castiel's unwavering eyes on him. Were it a man, Dean would call it lustful, but it wasn't, it was an angel and this angel stared.

"Dean, I need you." Castiel said softly and Dean almost cricked his neck as he spun around to see him. Castiel rarely asked for Dean's help.

"Want me to wake up the whole crew? Is it happening? Have they found out about our plan? Have they found us?"

"No, no, nothing like that."

Dean's shoulders sagged with relief as he looked over Castiel. He looked especially winded and that was saying something for the perpetually disheveled angel.

"I have just escaped Gabriel." He explained and Dean raked his eyes over Cas' body to look for any injuries. "I am in one piece, it will be fine, I doubt he will continue to hunt me down…"

"Cas, are you telling me you're scared?" asked Dean, but he changed his tone when the angel seemed to shrink into himself, "It's ok, if you are. It's ok to be scared."

"I'm not afraid, I am… Dean, when we first met, when you met me in this vessel and I met you in your flesh, you didn't believe I was an angel. And you said it was because no one had ever seen one, you said it was because God was absent and demons walked the earth and angels wouldn't allow that. You had many reasons for your skepticism, but that wasn't the root of it, was it? Your initial response to my existence was disbelief because you believed yourself unworthy of being saved. You didn't think you were good enough for angels."

"Was right, wasn't I? Lotta good pulling me from the pit did for the cause."

"I believe that makes you more righteous." Said Cas softly, and he took a step closer to Dean. "How could you ever believe yourself inadequate? I did all of it for you, Dean. You shine so brightly and you love so fully and you are beautiful. Your soul is so beautiful. We did not deserve _you_."

Dean gave a hollow laugh and looked away from the blinding earnestness of the angel.

"I had once believed that everyone deserved to be saved… Even Sam, even your brother can find redemption. But…" Castiel couldn't look at Dean through his confession and that was what made Dean close the distance between them, standing mere inches away. "There were many lies in heaven, it is a corrupt system, but I had hoped that that was the one truth. We could all be forgiven."

"Cas, you never gotta apologize. Ok? Never apologize, nothing you can do can make me hate you. You can't do anything you gotta ask me to forgive. We're family, got it? So stop talking like this. You are… you have… you're good, Cas."

"You don't know what I've done."

"What matters is what you _do. _I forgive you. Whatever it is that you did, I forgive you. Is that what you needed? You're not wrong, Cas. You're the only one of those godda—fucking angel deush wads that has an ounce of ok in them. You're the righteous one."

"You don't know what it is that taints me. You don't know my actions, even done with the best of intentions…"

"I have faith, Cas."

"Dean?"

"I have faith in you."

"Dean," Cas whispered and it wasn't a question or a hesitation or anything besides an invitation. An invitation that Dean didn't need.

He didn't know when it came to this, but he knew that it was big and unnamable and powerful as fuck. Castiel, always Castiel.

It was Dean who harshly jerked Cas' mouth to his, with force and aggression as though the weeks of keeping his hands and his fingers to himself were floodgates finally breaking. Dean had no idea where the water was heading, but it was moving fast and violent and Dean didn't care. He didn't care because Castiel was holding his waist and Dean, the stupid son of a bitch, had faith.

"Need you, Dean," Castiel panted and Dean spun them so that Cas was pinned to the Impala. He fisted the lapels of Cas' coat and pulled their mouths back together. Castiel broke apart for a moment, breathless "Dean, I don't know how…"

Dean resumed their kiss softly, letting his hands trail downwards until Castiel stopped him. The angel never did and suddenly Dean's hands were at Castiel's pants and it was really happening. It was finally happening and it was like a dream and a nightmare at once. The kind of nightmare where Dean had to sit down to take a test just to realize that no one had given him the textbook and it was all in French.

"I don't either," said Dean and he laughed a real laugh that warmed him to his toes. It seemed that he only laughed with Castiel in end times. "I want to learn." He said and he threw caution to the wind as he cupped Cas through his pants, feeling him half hard and trembling. The blue eyes, when Dean tore his gaze away from firming cock in his hand-and _fuck _was that hot- to the angel's face were black with pupil and ravenous.

Dean unbuttoned the pants, the uncomfortable pause hanging in the air for only a moment before he was staring at the plump, pink cock that bobbed out of the opening. It was thickening under Dean's scrutiny and he reached out and touched it. Castiel seemed to receive an electric shock at Dean's touch, his whole body seizing. Cas' breathing was hard and fast against his face, so Dean took it as a cue to continue.

It felt weird to be pulling on a cock apart from his own, the space between them making the action feel a little more foreign. Dean couldn't feel it himself, but as he watched Castiel arch against his hand, it was almost better. Dean pressed themselves closer together, his knee coming between Castiel's legs, pressing his face to Cas' neck as he jerked him. It was easier this way, it felt more natural and Dean needed to feel Cas' chest and breath and body against his. He needed Cas to taste him and touch him and fuck, he wasn't going to last.

"Put your hands on me, Cas," Dean whispered against the angel and Cas obeyed without hesitation, a hand going to his neck, the other grabbing at his back, directing him, pulling him into him and it was so hot and Dean felt so damn alive he thought he might explode. He hadn't felt this alive in years, since he was pulled from Hell. He had been dead for two years and now Cas was bringing him to life, saving him from the dark loneliness of it all. Again. It had always been Cas.

Dean twisted and let his own dick drag across the inside of Castiel's parted thigh and let out a sound that he wished was more manly than a whimper. But Castiel would never care about that. He'd never cared about Dean's hard persona or about his reputation as a sex god. Cas saw something else entirely. It wasn't Dean's charm, his perky nipples or his sense of humor. It was something else and only Cas could see it and he said it was beautiful.

Cas's cock was spilling precome but Dean's hand was hot and dry and tight, no matter how many times he swiped across the head (earning a new twitch of surprise and arousal each time.) Dean slowed his stroking. Castiel let out a throaty whine. "Please, Dean, please." He gasped against Dean's neck and Dean gave him a gentle, reassuring kiss before he stepped back, just far enough to be able to drop to his knees. "Dean?" Castiel whined again, and Dean might have been intimidated, terrified, unsure had it been any other man, but it wasn't, it was Cas. Dean kept his eyes on the angel's as he opened his mouth wide and took the dick into his mouth.

It wasn't a gross as Dean had feared, it didn't taste like anything besides salty skin and the saline sting of Cas' precome. Dean started to bob his head, but relaxed his jaw too much and let his teeth nudge Cas' sensitive cock. Cas winced, but kept his eyes on Dean from above.

He found a rhythm, soon, keeping his jaw tense and open as he swirled his tongue around the head and Cas threw his head back, breathing through his nose and grabbing the Impala until the knuckles on his already pale hand were even whiter. Dean almost forgot the most important part, and suddenly hollowed his cheeks as he sucked, creating pressure.

Cas lost it then, managing a strangled sound that could have been 'Dean' if the name had a few more syllables in it. More because he was taken by surprise than anything else, Dean let Cas' hot and sharp come fill his mouth.

Once the first string of it hit the back of his throat, Dean reeled with his own orgasm, untouched in his pants. He swallowed the bitter release and fell forward onto his hands, trembling with the force of the pleasure in his body. It was like an orgasm train had hit him, right in the gut and his insides were still swirling and rocking with the unearthly gratification.

Dean got to his feet, ignoring the hot squelch in his pants. Castiel looked sad if out of breath and pink around the lips and cheeks, still, so Dean kissed him. He stroked his fingers through Cas' arms and then through his hair, then down to his hips and finally, completing the circle, back up to his hands, lacing fingers as his tongue met Cas'.

"Dean, that was beautiful." He murmured and Dean chuckled.

"That was a blow job."

"You are beautiful, Dean."

"I love you, Cas." Dean whispered and held the angel tighter in his arms, "Fuck, fucking fuck it all to Hell, I love you."

* * *

Zapata walked in the front door of his house and stopped short as he saw Paige sitting on the couch in the living room. He waited for her to say something, accuse him, yell at him, cry, anything at all that would tell him how to handle this big _something _in his life. It was too much. This was too much on top of everything and Zapata didn't even know how to start dealing with it. But she stayed silent and still, and Zapata really didn't know what else he had been expecting.

As he stepped into the living room, he saw that she was asleep. She was sitting upright, with her head resting on her shoulder, her dark hair messy and knotted around her face. Her eyes were puffy and red and she had pink streaks from where she had been crying. Zapata hesitantly took the blanket off the other arm chair and placed it over her. They could try and figure it out in the morning. Just because he couldn't sleep didn't mean that she wasn't allowed to.

She startled as he moved the hair from her shoulder and Zapata caught her wrist as she struck blindly out into the dark.

"Hey, it's me. You fell asleep on the couch."

"David?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's me. Go back to sleep, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You came back… I was afraid…"

"Yeah, I came back. Go to sleep." She straightened up, batting away his attempts to lull her back to slumber. They were dealing with this now, he supposed. He sat on the coffee table, facing her.

"David," she said and her eyes got shiny. Zapata wondered how many times she had cried since he left. Suddenly, he regretted leaving.

He took her hand in his and squeezed it. It fit so well in his own. She wasn't a particularly small woman and he wasn't a noticeably large man. Their hands were almost the same in size, though her fingers tapered at the ends, feminine and elegant while his always looked flat and wide. Besides the shape, and the color, Paige's pale olive skin to his reddish clay pigment, they were equal. She wasn't a 'normal' wife he would keep tucked away in a house somewhere, she was a fighter and a survivor and a partner. They could be partners.

He was so stupid for thinking that this life could have been his.

Paige pulled her hand out of his and looked away from him. She fumbled with her hands in her lap for a few seconds and then laid it flat on the coffee table beside him. When she moved her hand, her wedding ring sat next to him. Zapata stared at it, willing it to either not be true or to sink in. Anything other than this freefall. If this beautiful fantasy happily-ever-after bullshit life was blowing up in his face, he just wanted it to blow up already. Why the fuck did he think that he was one of the lucky sons of bitches who got a stab at this?

Zapata regretted the unconscious swallow he made because it's like trying to shove a rock down a sandpaper tube.

"That's it, then." He said and she still wasn't looking at him.

"I thought it would be easier… than you having to ask for them." She said.

She had thought it over. She had made a decision. She had been thinking it over while she waited for him. He had just parked outside of a 24 hour liquor store and had to tell himself all his reasons to not go in there. She used to be one of the reasons. He never told anyone because the first rule of getting sober is to do it for yourself, not anyone else. He would have been scolded or pitied. And he did do it for himself, mostly, but he always saw her face there too. Her features sad, scared, unsure whenever he thought of drinking. She kept him sober. She kept him sane but he should have known better than to fall in love with the women in dreams; they're gone in the morning with sunlight and reality.

She stood up and Zapata realized that she was wearing shoes, which he had learned early on was not something she liked to do. She grabbed a small bag that was packed by the couch and slung it over her shoulder.

"I'm going to Bobby's." she said, "I guess you can keep everything. The furniture. The rugs. I'll… I'll send someone to pick up the baby stuff and you can do whatever you want with that room, I guess. Good thing we didn't paint it yet, right?" her tone was hard and it made Zapata want a whiskey ten minutes ago. He wanted the hot burn. He wanted the head rush. This was… not acceptable.

"So, you're leaving me? That's it? Rather go play house with the angel?"

"Castiel? Are you kidding me?" she asked with a genuine giggle, and that pissed Zapata off even more.

"Fucking fuck, Paige," he started, loudly. Paige looked away from him and her wet eyes made Zapata's eyes burn in response, "It wasn't supposed to be like this. Hold still for a goddamn second, please. _Please. _Talk to me. Quit running away from the things that make you happy." He said, and then he lowered his voice to a whisper. It broke and he didn't even care at all, "Didn't I make you happy?"

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes." She said, "But, David…"

"You said we could do anything together. You said it was better when we were together."

"It isn't your baby, David. She isn't… yours."

"So that means that you aren't either, is that it?"

"Why are you being like this, David? I'm trying to make this easier" she pleaded, "Please, let me leave with some shred of dignity. It's better this way. She's not your daughter. You don't have to do this."

"I don't want you to leave."

"What?"

"I don't want to…break up."

"David, we were never together. We've never—" she made a blurry gesture between them, begging Zapata to not make her say it out loud. "It isn't your daughter."

"I don't care."

"Of course you care." She said, rolling her eyes, squishing more water out at the creases.

"Ok, I do care, but… That's not why I married you." He said, "If you'll have me, I want you to stay. Be my wife. I'm not going to beg, because I shouldn't need to. Damn it, Paige, how could you think I'd throw you out? That's what you thought, isn't it? That I'd kick you out so you were going to leave before it came to that. Jesus, what did I ever do to deserve that, Paige?"

"David, she isn't yours."

"It will take more than some other guy's kid to drive me away."

"I'm not… I'm not having any more babies. This is it. No more. That's non negotiable. If you stay with me… you'll never have kids. Never have your own kids."

"If I get you, and her, I don't give a damn."

"David, don't." she said, but she let herself be pulled into him, wrapped in his arms, "Don't do this. You would make such beautiful babies. "

"Stay with me, forever. This is _our _house. This is still _our _child. I want you, Paige. Nothing else will make me as happy as you will."

"I'm afraid you'll change your mind."

"Stop running, Paige."

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" she asked him, and he kissed her forehead, "David, you're all I have."

"Good. 'Cause you're all I have." He whispered into her hairline. After they held for a few minutes, they laced fingers and he led them to their bedroom. It was different, now, that he knew for certain that he had never touched her body intimately. He had never been inside of her, and sharing a bed, there was a new tension in it.

If she weren't eight months pregnant, Zapata would have claimed her body with along her heart. He would have left love bites along her skin, around her neck where the world could see. But she was, so he didn't. Instead he held her swollen middle and touched the child within, trying to reacquaint himself with the new life inside of her.

It wasn't his. It would come out looking like Paige, possibly even Castiel. It wouldn't look like him. He tried very hard to see if that really bothered him.

Because, it was his. He had decided, a long time ago that he would die for that child. He died for it before it even kicked against his hand. He loved her before they had even picked out a nursery color for her. It wouldn't look like him.

Zapata didn't really mind.

* * *

It was still dark and the bed was empty when Paige woke up. Autumn was coming in with a vengeance, so she winced as her feet touched the cold wood floors. There was a low whistle from one of the windows that was poorly installed, the wind outside was nasty, howling and whipping. Paige couldn't even hear her own footsteps as she walked down the hall. A light was on in the child's nursery and Paige followed it.

She stood in the doorway and watched Zapata scrub the floorboards where the holy fire had scorched, trying to wash it away. Paige stepped into the room and Zapata froze as she covered his light in her huge shadow. She smiled at him before she picked up one of the markers that he had used to measure the walls for shelves in the room. She walked over to the wall closest to the door and started sketching in angel protection sigils.

She heard Zapata continue scrubbing behind her. They worked in silence most of the night before Zapata wiped his hands on his pants and Paige stepped back to admire her handiwork.

The sigils looked rudimentary and savage, more graffiti than anything else, but Zapata remedied it easily. He opened the can of mute lemon paint and started painting the walls. Over and over and over the sigils he went, covering up the angels and their manipulation and their lies. Covering up the child's destiny and her origins. Hiding the fact that she would spend her childhood being tucked away from the cruel, prying hands of the angels and their plans.

Paige joined him, covering all that would come to pass with a soothing lemon colored paint. She reached out and took Zapata's hand.

It was far from over, but it was better when they were together.

* * *

**Reviews make me squee.**


	55. Chapter 55: Glass Elevators

**WARNING: Mentions of m/m relations in the middle of the chapter.**

Gabriel would compare sex with Kali to a fire. The scorching, blurry and hazy around the edges, and fast with a rhythm and grace all it's own.

Except, in this scenario, he was the log and she the flame, rising, falling, swallowing, capturing, claiming and searing him around the edges. Charring his grace and his sanity, making him crave the heat. His hands across her flesh was trying to tame lava; languid and slow but scorching hot to the touch. The cool pale skin of his vessel, where his stomach brushed against hers as he was inside her was like steam, rising as the lava crashed into the ocean.

Gabriel was not cold. Gabriel was not small. Gabriel was lacking nothing in the stamina department but Kali was more. She was always more than him and he thought, maybe, she had known all along. He touched her and he felt heat and the devotion of a million souls, her souls and her furnace. She was a goddess and he was the henchman of some other deity, there was a pecking order and she outranked him.

And perhaps she had known all along.

When humans touched him they felt love. Not always his direct love for them, but his father's love for them. His father's love for his angels. His father's faith and his father's promise of home after death. Every human soul was crying out for that answer, wanting to know what came next, and Gabriel's grace promised them peace. Gabriel's mere existence and proximity promised them paradise, and it was good.

But they didn't always know what it was that they felt, not able to put a finger on the feeling of home and family. Kali would. She would taste it on his tongue and feel it thrust inside of her with his cock. His father, her rival, and all the souls that were loyal to him colored the haze of power surrounding him. He soothed himself with the thought that she couldn't place it and din't care to. She was more powerful than he and that was all she needed to know. But he should have known better, seen more in the cool eyes. She slid a fake blade into his heart and he wondered if perhaps she had known all along.

Lucifer saw it, that was for certain, drifting off of her. The stench of his grace rising from her skin, mixing with her own power, tainting her.

"Over a _girl _Gabriel, really?" Lucifer asked as Gabriel handed his friend, fire and lust and something untamable, to the Winchesters, while he held his sword aloft to Lucifer.

Over a girl. Gabriel was finally throwing his hat into the ring over a girl.

They would never leave her alone. They would never let her live any sort of life, just snippets of one, just enough to let her think it was hers before the rug was pulled out from under her.

She was of the proper bloodline and the appropriate age so she was their show dog. They pushed and pulled, tweaked and pinched to shape her into something she wasn't. They bred her and used her and she was very much like a dog, still turning her head hopefully, wagging her tail when she saw him because for all the training and abuse, they couldn't change that.

But she wasn't their dog, she was his friend.

And it was her world and her life and her family and all she ever asked for was love. The one thing that they tempted her with, a treat just outside of a dog's reach.

She was his friend and _finally _she had learned to fear him. She probably should have done so from the start.

Gabriel was done being the mediator of misery to these creatures, these humans who tried to do right. They prayed to this god and they built temples to this god and they loved this god and he was going to let it blow up between his two oldests, a family spat between angels would destroy what they had been taught to love.

Maybe he wasn't anything more than one of their show dogs, trained and used and groomed just right. And for what?

All she had ever asked for was love, so he gave it to her. A million years of death and war and fighting flashed before his eyes as Lucifer sank his sword into him. A woman in a hut, giving her soul to him. A child in the desert, agreeing to forsake her family and friends for his father's cause. A temperamental little blonde with her guts being held together with an ace bandage. A big, sad, pregnant woman in an unfinished nursery, crying as she realized that she would never be free. Realizing that she never had been.

Then it was all light.

* * *

"Gabriel?" asked Jakab as he heard footsteps in the living room, "Gabriel, what are you looking for?"

His shoulders relaxed as he saw his lover looking over the bookshelves. Gabriel heard Jakab and turned, smiling broadly.

"Hey, sugar lips." He said with a smirk. Jakab wrinkled his brow.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked, his eyes dropping to Gabriel's shirt, smeared with blood. The archangel gave a careless shrug and grinned again. He started walking towards Jakab with purpose and Jakab fought the instinct to take a step back.

"Never better, cutie pie, never better," he reached behind Jakab and squeezed his ass, smacking it, but Gabriel's playful light was missing from his eyes. The hand kept roaming, drawing Gabriel's attention from his face to Jakab's crotch. He cupped it firmly with one hand as he lifted Jakab's shirt with the other, not taking it off as much as exposing the skin beneath it.

Jakab batted Gabriel's hand away.

"What are you doing?" he asked, but Gabriel closed the distance between them again, resuming his evaluation of Jakab's body as though the man had never protested in the first place. Gabriel wrinkled his nose.

"Getting a bit past our expiration date, aren't we? Milk going a bit sour with age, hmmmm? But you work out. Good for you for trying. At least your hair isn't thinni—well, it's hardly even noticeable, isn't it?"

Jakab squinted his eyes at Gabriel again. Gabriel had always been good at letting Jakab push him away. Gabriel had always told him that age was meaningless, he made love to a soul, not a body and Jakab's soul only grew more radiant with age.

"You are not Gabriel," said Jakab, twisting out of Gabriel's grasp. The angel held strong, the skin on his wrist chaffed with friction. His fingers were going numb without circulation as Gabriel tightened his grip.

"Of course I am, who else would I be?" The familiar brown eyes were narrowed at him, searching his face.

"I… I don—" Jakab started, "You are not him. What have you done with him? If you hurt him, I will—"

"You'll what?" asked Gabriel, twisting his wrist again, making Jakab choke with pain and fall to his knees. "Wanna get rough? What if I grabbed your hair in my fists and face fucked you until you cried? What if I shoved a rolling pin up your ass and pinched your nipple till you bled? You get off on that, right? Torture? How old was that boy in Sarajevo? Your commander told you to tie him up, make him watch your chain of command rape his mother. You didn't touch her. But you got hard. Did you fuck your fist that night, thinking of it? Bet you did. Look at the blood, how it drips off you. You were the one to pull the trigger. Put the kid out of his misery. Generous of you." Gabriel held each of Jakab's hands in his as he turned them over, inspecting them. "Look at all the blood on these," he said with a tut.

"You are not Gabriel," Jakab asserted, "He would never do this. He said I could be saved. He said my soul could be salvaged. He said my soul was beautiful."

"And you let me fuck you, right? Did my cock up your ass absolve all your sins?" Gabriel sneered, "I've never lied to you." The angel gave out a harsh laugh.

"You are not Gabriel."

"You know the worst part of this?" Gabriel asked, leaning in towards Jakab's face to whisper in his ear, "That little nugget of doubt in the back of your mind. You always thought it was a little too good to be true, didn't you? Unconditional love? Forgiveness? Something holy and immortal and so very in love with _you. _That's the best part. You'll never know for certain."

Gabriel grabbed Jakab by the throat and in a single fist, crushed the human's spine.

* * *

Paige sat up with a jolt, sweat binding the jersey fabric of Zapata's flannel to her skin. Dizzily, she kicked the sheets off the bed and stumbled down the hall to the bathroom, flinging the door open and resting her forehead on the porcelain of the toilet.

Vaguely, she heard Zapata mumble some concerned sounding words before he was in the doorway to the bathroom. He held a glass of water from the nightstand and filled wit with water from the sink tap.

"Too late in the pregnancy for morning sickness," he said slowly, handing her the glass of water before joining her on the floor. Paige nodded, putting her lips against the cool glass but not taking a sip. Zapata rubbed her back. "Indigestion, maybe? Werid gas?"

"It's not—" Paige said, pointing to her stomach with her forehead still against the cool tile. "It's—" and she patted over her heart. Zapata put his hand over hers.

"It's like you just ran a mile. Nightmare?"

"I don't know…" she said.

"Maybe we should call…" but Zapata stopped himself as Paige cringed at the unspoken term. They weren't currently talking to any of their angels. Zapata took a resigned breath, "We may have to. How many half angel babies are running around?"

"Gabriel said it is a normal baby, more Jimmy than Castiel."

"It's our baby, Paige," he said, "We shouldn't take any—"

Zapata was interrupted as his cell phone rang. It sounded distant and when he gave Paige a questioning look, she rolled her eyes sleepily. They could resume the argument later, and they would.

"Charging downstairs by the desk." She said and Zapata stood and took the stairs at a jog.

Once she decided that she wasn't about to vomit, she stood and rubbed her lower back. Her daughter gave a blunt kick against her stomach, seeming as unhappy at being disturbed as Paige was. She wandered back to the bed, ready to fall into it when she stopped, staring at her pillow.

Zapata walked back into the room with the phone in his hand, looking at Paige with an ominous expression. Paige put her hand back up to her heart which had been skipping and felt cold copper under her hand. Icy cold copper, even as it laid across her feverishly warm skin.

"Yeah, I'll tell her—" said Zapata on the phone and Paige fell into the bed, one hand on her necklace and one on the cold blade under her fingertips. Gabriel's archangel sword laid across her pillow, like it had before. Then it had been light and warm, filled with his grace. It was just cold metal now.

Paige held her hand out to Zapata for the phone. He hesitated before handing it to her. Her voice was raspy and dry.

"Dean, is Cas there?" she croaked. She waited a beat before she heard the graveled voice. "Cas, Jakab. There was a human, Jakab an—"

Paige let out a great sob, clutching the cold blade in her hands. Zapata took the phone from her and hung it up, before sitting on the bed and pulling her into him.

"It's over. He's over. They're…" she started. Zapata nodded and held her. She fell asleep sitting up, her knuckles white over the long blade of the dead archangel.


	56. Chapter 56: Battle of Bull Run

**My storyline has gotten a little complicated, so please tell me if there is anything you're unclear on.**

**SUPER SHITTY SUMMARY:**

**In the soap opera so far, we've discovered that Paige is pregnant with a highly important prophet that will be necessary after the Michael/Lucifer showdown. The birth of the child symbolizes the birth of the new world after the apocalypse. Heaven and hell have worked in tandem for thousands of years and now the opposites are finally being pitted against each other and whatever comes out of the war will be the way of the new world. So, the prophet's birth is parallelling this because God loves poetic symmetry. Paige was doomed to kill whoever got her pregnant because heaven/hell and man/woman. She was intended to suffer loss like whichever angel would suffer the loss and guilt of his brother, and the child would be born into that regret and remorse. **

**But, Castiel, on his "free will" kick, intervened and impregnated Paige himself so that she and her friend/husband/hunting partner, David Zapata, could finally be a family that she was doomed to lose. He believes that since he is an angel, he will be exempt from the whole black-widow killing-baby-daddy thing. But since Castiel was an angel, making the prophet of the lord an half angel baby and skewering the neutral prphet decidedly in the direction of heaven. So, until the child becomes a real prophet, who's life is archangel guaranteed, angels and demons will always be looking to even the playing field again. Only time will tell, but Paige and Zapata aren't too thrilled to find out that she's been incubating angel-prophet baby. But the world is ending and shit's going down pretty fast so they hold onto each other because it's probably better than being alone. **

**Phew. This could be on soapnet, yeah? I'm sorry, I'm such a sucker for drama. Also, sex. And vegan ice cream. But, yeah, drama is pretty awesome too. **

**Onward!**

* * *

"Hey, Bobby. It's Zapata. Yeah, we're just getting off the interstate now, be there in about an hour? Yeah. She's sleeping now. Fine, I suppose. She hasn't said much. I suppose that's normal. Yeah. Yeah, all right. Tell Dean to keep his panties on, I'll get him a damn burrito. Ok, yeah. Yeah. I think she's waking up, so I'll talk to you in a bit. Ok, bye."

Paige blinked out the truck window. She'd heard the whole conversation and gotten enough unspoken cues from Zapata to know that he was freaking out. They weren't going to Bobby's for a friendly visit. They weren't even going to help with the research brigade, like Zapata claimed. They were going because Zapata didn't know what to say or do with her, quiet and alone, together in their big house. She wasn't helping him at all and she felt pity for him, fleeting and sharp. So many things he didn't understand and didn't sign on for and he was sticking through.

She looked at his profile in the reflection of the window, staring straight ahead into the asphalt and marveled at how well she _knew _him without knowing anything about him at all. She knew that he flicked his nose when she was saying something he didn't like. She could watch him counting to ten in his head before he said anything he thought she wouldn't take well. Their relationship was still new. Still chaste, even, and still smacked of the polite dance of second and first date jitters.

He was beautiful.

She had always been mildly aware of it, but had never had time to actually stop and look at him. Warm colored skin, soft brown eyes, cheekbones that sloped and swelled like mountains when he wasn't smiling. His blank face as he stared out at the road was beautiful, sharp and serious. She so rarely saw him like that, just... blank. He always had a soft smile playing at his lips, always found something to smile about in all their mess. His hair was getting long and she didn't comment on it. A beard was coming in around his jaw and she sort of liked the rugged outdoorsy look of him. She liked him. He was so beautiful.

Gabriel was dead. Gabriel had betrayed her trust, violated her body, ruined her life and he was dead. Gabriel had saved her and kissed her and held her when she felt alone and he was dead. Dean said he went out like a hero, hopping onto their sinking ship just in time to take a sail bow to the chest for Team Free Will. Paige didn't know how to feel besides stupid and hopeless and terrified. It was one thing when she thought that she was pregnant with her husband's baby. She was scared and the world was ending but they had each other and the child gripping them together like glue; a little bit of him and a little bit of her that would one day walk and talk and be evidence of their life and their union.

Now there was a stranger inside of her and she didn't know what to do. She was floating in the weird space of waiting, for the world to end, for her child to be born, for Zapata to leave her finally. Thankfully, perhaps, because now she was watching him, searching him for that glimmer of regret. Regret for taking on her case, for taking her into his home. She could probably survive it if he left her now, but if he waited five years, ten years? She might not make it.

Because, god, he was beautiful. And she liked him.

* * *

**DESTIEL SCENE M/M**

Dean sat alone in the back seat of the Impala, taking another long swig of the whiskey he tucked between the cushions. He cast another glance at the living room window, it was still dark. Another swig of whiskey while he sat, while he waited.

"Dean." Said the familiar voice and it went straight down his spine to his lap. He fought to keep from closing his eyes, throwing his head back and letting the word, the sound, the breath of Castiel run down his body, as hot and satisfying as actual hands on his skin.

"Cas," Dean responded in a pained breath and the angel knew that Dean had surrendered. Had heard his sins, his crimes and still surrendered to him. Dean threw his gaze to the ceiling of the Impala. "Cas, you gotta tell me your side of what happened. You gotta tell me _why. _You just gotta."

"It is all true. Paige is not one to spread malicious lies. The child is not David Zapata's. It is a prophet of the lord."

"And it's… yours?"

"Genetically? Yes."

"Damn it, Cas. I mean, come the fuck on. Ever heard of a condom or something?"

"There was a condom. I took it off."

"No, Cas, fuck, that's _not _ok. And Paige? Of all people? _Paige? _"

"It is her destiny. I am… an alternative to what must come to pass."

"And you wiped her memory? Do you know how that looks? You have to understand that."

"She was happy to think it was the other hunter's. She was happy to build a home and a nest with him, even if it was cautious."

"It doesn't count! Not when he's not the kid's father. I swear, you angels, it's like Heaven all over again. Just because it _looks _like what we want doesn't mean that it is. We want what is real, even if the lie is so much prettier."

"All humans, or just you?" asked Cas.

"All of us. We aren't playthings. We aren't vessels or prophet ovens, ok? We're people and we don't appreciate being manipulated."

"Are you aware that the shirt you are wearing was made in a factory in India by a little girl. She's eight, or she was when she made it two years ago. The coffee you drink was grown in a farm in Nicaragua on land that used to be used for sustinence farming. The people who used to grow rice and corn on the land now harvest coffee for export. They have a hard time paying for beans at the store. You have an illusion of freedom, but are these people free? Or are they trapped in this… empire of money?"

"Cas…"

"I do not think your species is doomed, but neither is it free. Your species _does _like this lie, that lie that lets them sleep at night and pretend they aren't hurting anyone with their consumption."

"It's her body, man. Why don't you get that?"

"Because it is her body but it creates another body and destroys a third. Her body has been up for grabs by angels for thousands of years, her soul has always been slotted for this. I did not take her freedom from her, I simply rerouted her slavery into something that looked pleasing to her. She was destined to hurt someone and in so doing, hurt herself. She was doomed to this and I changed that. I gave her more freedom than she ever had before."

"Cas, I don't know if we can… if I can… if you don't see what's wrong with this then I don't know if we can keep…"

"Why do you refuse to see what is right with this? I have a better way." Castiel said and his voice was ragged with desperation and sheer arrogance. Dean would have smiled at his childish confidence, but he didn't.

"Cas, you scare me, sometimes. Not because I think you'll hurt me, but because you will think you're helping."

"I don't wish to scare you." Said Cas softly, and he looked down at his hands in his lap. "Everything else that I do is for you. I'm not sure who or what I am if I'm not yours."

"Cas…"

"Dean." Castiel saids plainly and Dean was gone, surrendered because he had known for awhile that Castiel couldn't be controlled or domesticated. Even when he seemed so harmless under his hands and even when he looked so lost and small, Castiel wasn't human. Dean might not ever understand Castiel. Castiel might not ever understand Dean. The world was ending and it was all coming down to the wire and Dean was a little afraid of his lover and fellow soldier.

But he was also completely at his mercy.

"Lie back, Cas." Dean said, and he wedged Cas into the corner of the seat and the window before he was pulling the angel's pants down. Cas was soft, still, but turning pink in the newly hot air between them. Castiel even obediently sat up enough for Dean to pull his shirt off of his chest, then falling back against the seat with a thump, watching him with blazing, curious eyes. Dean started to peel his own shirt off and Cas' breath hitched. "Wanna be naked with you, " Dean explained.

Castiel just blinked as though it had never occurred to him to question anything Dean did to his body. Dean started wiggling out of his own pants, struggling a little to maintain his balance over Cas's long, motionless figure.

The sweat on their skin made their fleshy cocks stick and catch on each other as Dean slid his knee between Castiel's submissively parted thighs. Dean leaned over him and Castiel's breath sped up, his blown pupils leaving Dean's to look between them and see the evidence of their intimacy. Their naked connection.

Dean grabbed one of Cas' limp hands and placed it on his hip, running it up his torso and then back down to his hip until Castiel got the idea and picked up the motion on his own.

"Like it when you touch me, Cas." Dean panted and Castiel made a strangled noise in his throat, watching his own hand over Dean's flesh. Then, completely without Dean's instruction, the hand dipped lower and cupped his ass. Dean started with a gasp and Castiel watched in amazement as Dean's cock went rigid. He slid his hand lower, to right under the swell of his ass, the back of his thigh and crushed Dean's pelvis to his. "Yeah, yeah, fuck, yeah." Dean breathed and Castiel parted his thighs further, giving Dean more space to drag against him, their hard cocks grazing occasionally.

Dean crushed Castiel in a kiss as he started to pick up speed, welcoming that animal rush into oblivion, that beautiful rise to something else, far away, both simple and spiritual in its bliss.

"I love you Cas," Dean groaned into Cas' ear, and Cas' hands gripped his ass firmly, spreading his cheeks. The air, the exposure, the sudden pressure and the keening whine in Castiel's desperate voice made Dean speed up, fucking beyond all logic and restraint.

Dean did love the lie. Castiel was not human. Castiel didn't have a body. Castiel was something Dean couldn't understand. Castiel wasn't something Dean couldn't control. Sometimes, Cas scared him.

But in the car, in the flesh and the heat and the animal need for pressure and release, Cas was under him, panting and begging so pretty.

The world was breaking at the seams and they were all doomed. They were all slaves. Dean had reality crushing on him every waking moment of his life. Why wasn't he allowed to indulge in a little bit of this insane fantasy, just for a few sweaty minutes?

Cas came first, with an undignified grunt, hot and humid in his ear. Dean collapsed against him, his as his mess splurted over Cas' balls and thighs and the leather seat of the Impala.

"I love you too, Dean." Cas whispered. Dean wondered if angels weren't the only ones who enjoyed the lie.

* * *

Dean slipped past the living room without turning on the light, making a bee line for Bobby's dark kitchen. As quietly as he could manage, he cracked open the cabinet and wrapped his hand silently around a glass. He almost dropped it when he heard Sam clear his throat.

"Shit, Sam." He growled with as much bite as he could manage in a whisper, "What the fuck are you doing?"

Sam just leveled him with a glare. "Paige is upstairs, right now."

"Yeah, I saw her come in, same as you."

"And you are screwing around with Cas? After everything they've told us?"

"How'd you…"

"Oh, gee, Dean, I don't know, three days ago I saw you making out against your car."

"Oh."

"I looked away when I realized what you were doing with your hand."

"How polite."

"_Dean," _hissed Sam, "I know you've got some sort of self destruction kick going right now. We stopped you from saying yes. The drinking and the _screwing _we don't have any place to try and control but, honestly, Dean…"

"Cas is our friend. He's gone to the bat for us, he fell out of heaven for us, he's waging war against everything he's ever known for us."

"Paige is supposed to be our friend." Said Sam, "Cas made her life into an episode of Maury."

Dean hung his head, Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, c'mon, you're_ acting _like you know what you're doing is wrong. Are you even bothering to justify this to _yourself_?"

"I love him."

"Yeah, Dean, we all know." Said Sam, "What good can come out of this, really?"

"He makes me feel good, ok? And it isn't just a dick thing, alright? I'm not screwing around with him 'cause I haven't got any other options."

"Is it easy for you to look her in the eye after you've been giving him hand jobs in the junkyard?"

"Knock it off, Sam."

"You have _never _taken a friend for granted. Except Paige who so obviously needs us now. You gave her so much shit for Gabriel and now you're doing the exact same thing."

"Shut _up_, Sam. God, shut _up. _You're not too good for Cas' help in the war? Weren't to good for a demon, suckling blood like some fucking vamp. The difference between us, Sam, is that I'm not hurting anyone. Don't you look down your nose at me."

Sam was quiet and when he turned his face back up to his brother, he didn't hide his wet eyes.

"Sammy, I'm—"

"Whatever, Dean, just whatever. Do what you want, screw who you want. I can't fight with you over this too. Don't let Paige find out, though, ok? It would hurt her. She feels alone and you getting Brokeback with the guy who nuked her life isn't going to help anyone. I won't tell her. You won't tell her. We're probably both going to die in this thing anyways, right?"

"Sam, don't be like that."

"Uncle. Ok? I give. You win. I can't fight with you if you're going to fight like that."

"I love him, Sam."

"I know, Dean." Said Sam, defeated.

Neither moved to leave the kitchen, both simply stood at opposite ends of the dark room. Dean's cellphone rang. Dean glanced at the number and shot Sam a guilty look before turning to face away from his brother.

"Yeah?"

"Dean, get everyone into the panic room, immediately." Came Castiel's voice.

"What?"

"Lucifer. He's found a way to breach the house and you need to get everyone into the panic room."

"How'd he find us?"

"She wasn't at her own home and I can only assume that the Devil has moved to the next on his list of potential safe houses."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying that my brother and his demons are on the hunt for Paige and Bobby Singer's house has long been regarded as a likely destination. Now get her into the panic room and lock yourselves in as well because they're all out for her."

"They'll kill her?"

"If only she were that lucky."

"Cas, are you—"

"I will hold them off best I can for as long as I can."

"I love you."

"I love you too. Please move."

No sooner had Dean hung up the phone than a large crash could be heard from the upstairs bedroom.

* * *

Sam and Dean rushed into the upstairs bedroom with their guns raised, just to see Paige and Zapata with theirs. Zapata was trained at the window, staring into the grass below. Dean stood beside him.

"Demon sigils on the doors and windows should keep it out." He said. He glanced between the brothers, "Which of you has it? I'll go out and stab the hell bastard myself."

"I think we all need to stay in here," said Sam, looking over Deans shoulder to the demon, standing patiently under the tree, smiling up at them. It held a brick in its hand. An identical brick sat in a pile of glass on the floor of the bedroom.

"No." said Zapata, reaching back to place a hand over his wife's knee, "No, it attacked us. It knew which bedroom we would be in. It's personal. This is personal."

"We have reason to believe that there are more where he came from." Said Dean, not meeting Paige's eye.

"You mean Cas told you." She supplied and Dean gave a curt, guilty nod.

"Baby, go to the panic room." Zapata said suddenly, his eyes were not trained on his wife or even Dean's hunched, guilty posture, but on the demon outside the window.

"Come with me."

"No, we've got to man the fort, keep you safe."

"No, David, I need you to come with me." She said, her voice was high pitched with panic. All three men turned to her. "David, I need you now. Please."

The other brick sailed through the window, lobbing Zapata in the neck and sholder and with a startled yell, he fell back onto the broken glass.

Paige cried out and lurched forwards but Sam caught her by the arm before she could enter the window's range.

"I'm fine, baby. Get her out of here, Sam."

"David, you promised."

"You promised too." He said, and Sam pulled her down the stairs.

* * *

"Ok," said Sam, as he dropped her off at the panic room, "Ok, you're gonna be ok."

"Wait, are you going back up there?"

"If there's more than one, I have to… why?"

Sam noted Paige's breathing. She suddenly winced, then tried to cover it, but it was too late, Sam had seen it. All the pieces were clicking together far too quickly.

"Oh, Paige. Oh, no. Now?"

"It started about twenty minutes ago. About ten minutes before the demon."

"How far apart –"

"I've counted about 5 since…"

"And you're sure…?"

"This ain't my first rodeo," she said with a strained smile and another wince.

"Shit. Shit, shit…"

There was the sound of a distant shout and a gunshot. Sam looked nervously at the stairs then back down to Paige who followed his gaze.

"Do you need me—"

"Sam?! More than one. Lots more than one." Dean called from above, "Could use another pair of hands. " another gunshot, "fuck, they're getting close."

"Go." She said. Sam opened his mouth and she gave him a push towards the sounds of gunshots and moving furniture as they turned the home into a fort. "But Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Bring me back my husband."

* * *

Sam barely made it up the stairs to the first landing when Dean shoved a bag of salt into his arms. Without needing prompting, Sam went to the back of the house and started dumping the salt along the window and door lines.

"Facing north, ten o clock, two figures." Zapata called and Sam heard two gunshots from the front of the house. Bobby blazed past Sam to where Dean must have been at the front, giving the youngest a tired shrug.

"Shit." Called Zapata, "Angel, not demon. We've got feathers coming in from the south."

Sam looked out his window in time to see two pale figures in suits touch down far too close to the window for comfort.

* * *

Paige tried her best not to panic.

Another contraction ripped through her body, punching the air out of lungs. She started pacing the room and taking deep breaths, interrupted by gunshots from outside. More than one gunshot for more than one demon.

She let out another shaky breath before another contraction squeezed tighter than she ever thought could happen. The first time she went into labor there had been a hospital and her mother, holding her hand and smiling a cool, controlled smile. She had been calm. Babies come when and how babies come, she had said. And she smiled, because panicking wasn't going to do anything that a cool head couldn't.

Another breath was broken by a contraction and Paige felt something wet trickle down the inside of her leg. Another gunshot cried out and the sound of glass breaking rang through the air again.

With a small sob, a pathetic realization of what might happen and a quiet plea to no one, no where to make her not have to do it falls on deaf ears. Paige eased out of her wet pants and tried pacing again.

* * *

"You ok, Zaps?" called Dean as he sunk the demon knife into a chest. There was no reply. "Hey, Zapata, talk to me!" Dean tried again.

Dean turned to run up the stairs and check on the other hunter when he just had time to shove his eyes closed as Castiel exorcised a demon not two feet from him.

"'bout time." He gruffed and Castiel shot him a look of disdain before shoving past him and heading up the stairs. Dean followed him, blood on the sleeves of Castiel's coat around the hands.

"Fucking angels." Zapata grumbled and Dean swallowed the bile in his throat as he looked at his friends crushed in face. He had taken the second brick to his nose and jaw, his broken bones like rocks in a bag. He flicked his tense gaze over Castiel, but didn't make any other comment. Castiel looked out the window. The angel turned to Zapata and touched his shoulder without the permission that Zapata clearly thought he needed. All broken pieces in Zapata's slack jaw were snapped back into place. Dean cleared his throat and Zapata stood, turning away from the angel and the window. Dean still heard him grumble something that sounded like, "Puto angels." Castiel pretended not to notice.

"The demons seem to have scattered, as for my brothers, I doubt they've given up, simply biding their time. Waiting."

"Waiting for what?" asked Zapata and Castiel let his eyes drop to the floorboards to where the panic room was before letting Zapata's question hang unanswered.

"You should be safe here, for now. I will intercept what angels I can."

"Wait, by yourself?" Dean said from the doorway, "No, Cas, that's suicide, man."

"It is paying what is due." Castiel said to Zapata before disappearing.

* * *

There was a flash of light and a yell outside the window. Then another. Dean and Zapata rushed to look out the broken glass and saw Castiel standing over two angels. Laid out on the ground and dead, their burnt wings overlapping.

A third angel appeared behind Castiel, suddenly and silently, it never looked away as it jammed it's blade into Castiel's shoulder.

"CAS!" called Dean, but the angel turned awkwardly in time to thrash the third angel along its neck. Another flash of light. Heavy footsteps on the stairs told the two hunters that Sam and Bobby were right behind. Dean spared his brother a nod before pushing past him.

"Think that's all of them?" Sam asked, looking over Zapata's shoulder. The third angel was laid, face first, into the ground, unmoving. His wings awkwardly falling against a tree.

"I don't…" Zapata started, but fell silent when he saw Castiel fall to his knees. "Do you… do you think he's going to be ok?"

Sam just grabbed Zapata and dragged him down the stairs.

Sam glanced into the panic room as he got down stairs. The bed sheet was missing and there was blood on the floor.

"Fuck," Sam breathed as he scraped at the locks, "Fuck, no, c'mon, it was too soon."

"Baby?!" Zapata called, "Baby, say something, are you ok?"

"…yeah.." Paige replied and Zapata let out a long breath. Her voice sounded fragile. "I would… really like some help… here… please."

Bobby was the first one in the room when the door opened, and the only one who was able to keep his cool as Zapata and Sam stared in the doorway. The floor was shiny with blood and something pearly and clear that Sam probably didn't want to know about and the bottom of Zapata's loose flannel shirt she wore was stained with blood. In her arms was a bundle of sheets.

"Sam, go upstairs, get scissors and hot water. Zapata, towels, all of them." ordered Bobby.

* * *

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